Green the New Gold
by Gwyndlyn Penadragon
Summary: Deep in the First Long Interval, dragon populations throughout Pern are eking along without the threat of Thread to spur them. When Gendine, a competent, albeit slightly awkward Holder girl, gets Searched for the High Reaches queen but ultimately Impresses a "green," she must defy stereotypes for the good of her Weyr and her heart. Minor references to canon characters.
1. All the Comforts of Hold

Gendine of Radharc Hold urged her runnerbeast up to a trot from her spot in the middle of the pen with a light clap of her hands. Indeed, that leg was looking good, supporting weight well again. Olarc, Radharc's journeyman Beastherder had outdone himself again. Usually, custom would have dictated that the Beastherder put down a runnerbeast with a lame leg, but Genny had pleaded and pleaded with him try any alternative. At last, he had found and cut out, with the generous help of redwort, numweed, and fellis, a solid lump that had been forming near the knee joint. Now the area had healed up with a proud scar and the animal could stand, and now even run, without whinnying in pain. It had been too long since she had been out in the fields with her runnerbeast, Star, a gift from her father on her eighth Turn. Star may have been pushing her prime, having come to her after settling into the resignation of many years of training, but Genny was determined to keep her in good health for as long as possible.

Not only had Star been lame for the past two fortnights, but it had been busy around the Hold, with the Lady Holder's recent reduction in duties on account of her being laid up with child. Because Genny had always been quick to volunteer for extra responsibilities and finished them with greater speed and efficiency than any other holder assigned the task, the Lady Holder had taken her under her wing and asked her to be her right hand assistant. As of late, these responsibilities left little time for herself.

Genny took one last deep breath of the sweet air flavored with budding flowers blowing through the outdoor enclosure. After retreating inside and hanging up Star's tack in the stables, Genny shuffled down to the wash room to remove the dirt and sweat she had accumulated, which would not mix well with the kitchens to which she was headed. After a quick scrub down, her long hair still damp, Genny turned her attention towards progress for the nightly meal. She checked in with the drudges who were tending cooking fires – adjusting the flames on most, correcting the rotation speed of the main spit, and adding seasoning, as needed. Although they were well-meaning and suited to routines, Genny, and the other Holders, preferred her nuanced direction of the flavors, which could depend on the wherry diet, the type and condition of wood in the fires, and age of the spices.

She found the taste of one pot of stew to be lacking and ran up to her room to quickly fetch the missing flavor. Genny had a small garden in her windowsill which she specially cultivated. With the few extra marks she saved up, Genny always sought out the stalls that featured aromatic plants at Gathers. While these stalls were mostly patronized for flowering flora that could be given as gifts the receiver would inevitably allow to wilt die, Genny sought out the most medicinal and fragrant ones and tended them with the utmost care. As such, she had accumulated quite the store of herbs and spices that she often employed in addition to the Hold's seasoning stores.

She was on her way back down to the kitchens via the Main Hall, fresh sage in hand, when she saw the visitors arrive. Genny had time after time proven herself most capable in managing Hold affairs and representing the Hold to the public. Genny rushed to welcome travelers to Radharc and was often the first face they saw. This was in sharp contrast to her mother, who seemed to disappear when visitors arrived; trained as an archivist at Harper Hall, Genny's mother preferred the company of old, musty scrolls to that of newcomers. Genny detoured to approach the jerkin-clad arrivals.

"Greetings Radharc Hold, I am M'tou, rider of bronze Calleth and this is T'mir, rider of blue Tolluth. We are here on behalf of High Reaches Weyr on a Search. The Queen Azirith has laid a clutch, including the golden egg of a queen. As you know, as Holders, part of your tithe duty is to furnish promising Candidates for the Weyrs. In these times of low dragon birthrates, I need not remind you of how critically important these Searches are, especially for queens candidates. Please round up your girls, 14-20 who are not with child and boys 12-18 for inspection." M'tou announced as he entered the hall.

It was especially in times such as these, without the Lady Holder able to oversee basic duties, that Genny took charge of the situation, "We are about half an hour from supper, would you dine with us while the young ones get prepared?"

M'tou looked curiously at the girl. "With pleasure," he replied. "And you? You should prepare as well. You are in the age range, are you not?"

"Oh me," Genny laughed, "Yes, I at seventeen, I fall in that range. Anyone here can tell you I can count. I'm one of the best at it! As such, I'm afraid I'll have to be staying behind. There's no way this Hold could get on without me." In her heart, Genny had always dreamed of befriending a dragon. She gazed longingly at the species on the rare occasion that one would grace her lesser Hold. Still, her duty bound her to know that her place was in her Hold.

"On the contrary, miss...? You are just the kind of young woman a queen might demand for her Weyr. You are absolutely coming with us. You heard the man, it's all an established part of the tithe. Surely there can be no arguments about that." The bluerider assured her.

"Gendine, my name is Gendine, although everyone calls me Genny. Well, we'll see what my mother thinks about this. She's never keen on me leaving Radharc territory. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to oversee the places being set, especially in accordance with hosting our guests of honor." She said, indicating them with a nod of her head.

"Certainly," M'tou smiled after her as she scampered off. What a capable young woman, how I could imagine her leading the Weyr he thought. Indeed Callath responded.

After dinner, the forty other children meeting the eligibility criteria were assembled in front of M'tou and T'mir just outside the Great Hall. Tolluth took interest in four of the boys as each one stepped forward in turn. None of the fifteen other girls presented seemed to catch either dragon's attention. "Ok, since it's just the five of you, and you're all pretty small, I think we can manage in one trip. We've brought along plenty of riding harnesses. Come on over and hold on tight, so no one gets lost in the cold between. The rest of you are dismissed back to your parents." M'tou announced. Genny turned with the rest of them.

"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast little lady," M'tou cautioned. "You are coming with us. Surely you know how to count? You told us so yourself! Why else would I have said five when only four boys were standing here? Come, you can sit here in front of me, you'll have the best view."

"Dragonrider, Dragonrider!" A shrill voice pierced through the commotion. "I'm sorry, I really think there has been a misunderstanding. You can't just simply take my daughter!" Genny's father, who had been quietly present since dinner began, chased after his fuming wife who had apparently just heard the news.

"Please ma'am, this is how things are done. We will send other riders to gather the parents of all Candidates as the Hatching gets closer. There's nothing you can do for now." The bluerider explained.

Before taking M'tou's extended hand, Genny went up and gave each of her parents a hug in turn. Her mother began sobbing tearfully, while her father calmly patted her on the back. "Don't worry, there's always a chance she doesn't choose me. I'll be back before you know it. And now you'll have an excuse to visit a Weyr. I know Father always enjoys checking out their structure and Mother, I've heard the dinners are simply inspirational." Genny smiled. M'tou marveled at how she had done and said everything that could have calmed the pair. He really hoped he had found the new Weyrwoman.


	2. A Queen's Candidate

When Genny and her cohort arrived at the High Reaches Weyr, she was alert with excitement despite the exhausting day. A short, wiry woman with greying hair was directing arrivals at in the Courtyard where they landed. "Another girl?" She asked warily, hardly even looking in Genny's direction. "Good. That way lass, down the hall you'll see another woman. Her name is Lawana. She'll arrange for proper attire for you." The woman barked.

"That's the Weyrwoman, Moura. She can be a little hard to track down sometimes, but she is fair and competent when she can be found. She sounds a bit stressed about the Hatching." M'tou told her. "Well, I'll see you around." He said in parting, giving Genny a small salute.

Genny walked down the corridor in the direction indicated. A woman, slightly overweight from years of her own good cooking, with short white hair but skin about two decades younger than the Weyrwoman's greeted Genny curtly, shoving a rolled package into her hands. "All you prima donnas vying for our poor queen egg. Settle down, settle down, here's another of you, can anyone point out an open bunk?"

"Can I help you with anything?" Genny volunteered, unfamiliar as she was with her surroundings.

The woman turned and looked at her thoughtfully. "No, no, I really have it under control. But thank you for asking. A nice girl like you, you make sure you steer clear of that one." Lawana said, pointing. "Her name is Allika and she's been bossing people around and making their lives miserable since she was born in this Weyr. She's certain she'll Impress. Here, here's a suitable bunk for you. I'm Lawana. You just let me know if you need anything, and I hope you enjoy your stay at our Weyr."

Genny shuffled over to the open bunk Lawana had pointed out to set down the bundle that had been given to her. In it, she found fresh furs to place on her bunk, a white robe, and matching white slippers.

"I've heard that's what we all wear when the time comes," a small girl near Genny piped up as she saw Genny unfold the garment. "Rather ugly, you know, but at least it's not for long. But I do wonder, what if the little queen likes pink?"

"Hmph, don't you know, all candidates wear white and all white. If you really feel the need to stand out in this robe – I agree with how unsightly it is, have one of the drudges take it in for you," The tall, blonde girl Lawana had pointed out as mean had overheard this conversation and had come to deride the young girl.

"So maybe the queen does like pink, but we won't know until she has Impressed one of us white-clad gals and told us, won't we" Genny said, reaching out to squeeze the younger girl's hand and trying to diffuse the situation.

"And just who do you think you are, anyways? Ack, it doesn't matter, you'll be gone in a sevenday's time." She really was nasty, Genny thought. The unsettling encounter really sucked away Genny's wired energy from earlier. She spread out the furs on her bunk, slipped in and gratefully closed her eyes for the night.

By the second day, Genny had gotten some of her bearings around the cavernous Weyr. She could at least navigate between the courtyard, Candidate bunks, Hatching Sand, and Kitchen/Great Hall, without much difficulty. She was thankful all of her important destinations were located on the ground floor as the space above her seemed immense. She could not get over her fearful reverence each time she swung by the Hatching ground, despite the blue-green whirring of the watchful queen's eyes that she was told expressed approval. Of course, she tried to avoid those times that the self-absorbed Allika spent on the sands caressing the golden egg. Fortunately, the heat of the Sands kept anyone's time on them to discrete intervals.

On the fifth day, Genny awoke to greater commotion than usual. A low hum seemed to permeate the Weyr, with new notes joining the sound and giving it greater nuance every so often. When she stepped out from the Candidates' bunks to the Hatching Arena, she saw numerous people filing in. She took the hearty, practically clad individuals as residents of the Weyr, and she assumed the others, elegantly clad pairs, were the parents of the hopeful Candidates. She scanned the arena but did not yet see her parents. She stepped outside to the caldera-rimmed courtyard. All over, flurries of color marked the arrival and departure of dragons delivering guests. Still more dragons were perched on the rim of the caldera, while others watched from cutouts in the face that she had learned were called weyrs. Each one apparently marked the quarters of a dragonrider. She heard the Weyrwoman's curt voice over all of the bustle "All Candidates to the Hatching Sand. All Candidates to the Hatching Sand!" Genny hurried back inside.

The Sands were more crowded than she had yet seen them, but it was not full by any means. There were an odd baker's dozen eggs beyond the coveted queen egg. The full grown Queen had been joined by a bronze about eighty percent her size who was rubbing her neck reassuringly with his snout. A few dragons poked their heads through the cavernous doors, only for their riders to shoo them back outside. The humming, which Genny realized came from the dragons, had grown louder and more intense.

Motion in the periphery of her vision caught her eye. A first egg rocked, and a crack appeared down its length. A brown snout poked through, and soon a wingtip close by. The crack spread, opened, and out from it flopped a brown, wet creature that stumbled about, its eyes whirring red with hunger. It lurched towards a tall, dark haired boy who raised his arms to shield himself. The dragon began clawing at his robed arms, piercing the skin, until another dark-haired boy, half a head shorter than the first lured the small creature away with a handful of bloody scraps. Slowly, the red eyes whirred rainbow as the Impression took effect. "Crenth?" The boy exclaimed incredulously.

All around, eggs began rocking back and forth. Genny focused her attention on the queen egg. That's the one she was here for, girls only got shots at golds. She was so transfixed her brain was not really in control of her actions; having watched the success and failure of the first Impression, some force compelled her to ready herself by plunging her hand into a nearby bucket of scraps. At last, a sign of motion from the queen egg. Genny tensed in anticipation. _Hello, I am Saleneth, and you will be mine!_ A voice suddenly intruded her thoughts.

Genny looked down to see a small, light green creature nibbling at the scraps in her hand and curling its tail around the girl's leg. It had made the approximately five yard journey between where the rest of the male candidates were throwing around scraps of meat to their newly hatched partners to where the girls awaited the queen. More, more, the voice cried as it thrust its head into Genny's unsoiled other hand. Genny thought she ought to feel disappointed by this turn of events. This was not a queen. It was a green. This is not what is supposed to happen. Except those thoughts were miniscule voices compared to the utter bliss and calm she felt. Also hunger. Genny quickly fetched a full bucket of scraps and brought it back to her little Saleneth. The little green ate with such vigor and yet seemed to still maintain a modicum of decorum.

Just then, all attention in the room shifted momentarily to the queen egg that had until recently captured Genny's full attention. Even Saleneth decided she could pause in her voracious quest. With a decided whoosh, the two halves of the shell fell open and the queen within lurched out. She darted among the female candidates, some of whom recoiled others of whom reached out to try to make contact in an attempt to Impress the little queen. None were as assiduous as the detestable Allika. The little gold dragon swung by the periphery of the female candidates where Genny sat with Saleneth. _Hello little one,_ she smiled at it. Saleneth spread her wings, _hey, over here! Me, me, me!_ She demanded. With what seemed to be an echo of disappointment, the little queen slowly turned her head to circle back to the other girls.

Allika had calculated this very movement and was there to grasp the little queen's head, look her in the eye, and waft food in front of her nostrils. After a few frantic shakes of her head, the queen hungrily accepted the food and her eyes gradually subsided from bright red to the many colors of Impression. It struck Genny that it was an awfully forced method of Impression. You're right, I sense trouble with those two, but none that we need to worry about right now. Have you tried these meat scraps? They're really good! The little green was still, permanently, in Genny's thoughts. Oh, Azirith says you have a feast of your own waiting. I like the sound of that, you need to eat too. Indeed, Candidates and their new partners began filtering out of the Hatching Ground.

Just then a familiar, petite figure came hurtling towards them. "Why you ungrateful little bitch! You wanted so much to get away from us that you jumped at Impressing that thing. It's not even a queen. I know. The gentleman next to me pointed the queen out as that one." Genny's mother was focusing all of the hurt and future loneliness that she felt into that one moment. Saleneth reared onto her hind legs, eyes whirring red. The lesser Hold woman did not mind the infant heed, and when she had encroached close enough into the reach of the little dragon, Saleneth struck with a taloned claw, drawing blood. _No, that's my mother._ Genny pleaded. _She's trying to take you away from me. I won't allow it, _Saleneth declared._ Just as you are taking me away from her, _Genny quickly rebuked her. Suddenly three figures had converged on the scene, the Weyrwoman, Weyrleader, and the hulking mass of the bronze dragon.

"You," the Moura's eyes narrowed briefly at the newly linked pair before she turned to the more pressing matter at hand. "Here, let me tend to your injuries," The Weyrwoman offered, leading Genny's mother away from the scene. The Weyrleader turned his attention toward Genny and Saleneth.

"Please, sir, I didn't do –"

"Hush child, you did everything you were supposed to. Nothing wrong. Now, there is a feast to be had. Since your parents are otherwise indisposed, let me lead you over to the Great Hall."

"Oh, sir, you needn't trouble yourself with me, I know the way," Genny quickly assured him.

"Nonsense, it's no trouble at all, I've got to eat too, you know. Besides, now that you'll be here in the Weyr, you are one of my own, and I really must see you taken care of. I don't know if we have met before, I am T'tor. Such a peculiar tiding, we'll have to keep a close eye and see what becomes of you. A female dragonrider..." T'tor began walking with the girl over to the Great Hall, caressing his chin.

"The Weyr can be a rough place for women, especially those who are not queenriders. I don't think we have had any non-weyrbred women stay with us, especially not for any length of time. I promise, under my watch you are to be treated with the utmost respect."

He turned to Saleneth, "You use your link with Polidarth and Azirith or any other leader of the Weyr if any trouble befalls the two of you, you hear me?" Saleneth's eyes whirred blue in response. "Not that the two of you will need it necessarily. You know, Polidarth tells me there were three boys who already met with her talons on her way to you. Very good, let's eat!"


	3. A Green Recruit

Genny did her best to integrate seamlessly into her otherwise all-male Weyrling class. She opted for an honorific contraction like her fellow riders, becoming known as G'ny. She figured it would make her stand out less and would be expedient later on during time sensitive drills. Lawana, with a trick for everything up her sleeve, suggested a large, thin fur draped across the opening of her alcove to salvage her Holder-bred modesty, although she was careful to minimize its use and the seclusion it afforded in order to stay connected with her compatriots. Instead, she often just elected to put off her changing until she was in the bathing room the women of the Lower Cavern shared.

Still, she felt the judging hostility from three boys who particularly disdained the presence of a female dragonrider. At the head of this group was one of the clutch's two brownriders, a curly haired boy named R'nan. He was Weyrbred and had embraced patriarchal hierarchy he observed; his slightly above average sized dragon, Branth, only emphasized his cockiness. Given their similar vitriol, G'ny faintly preferred R'nan's condescension to Allika's. If R'nan had perhaps Impressed a bronze, G'ny could only imagine treacherous pair the two of them would make. Even so, G'ny would not be surprised if they found intimacy in each other's company.

Almost a fortnight had passed by the time Genny and the other Weyrlings began falling into a steady routine. The days were exhausting. The dragonets had almost as many demands as there were minutes in the day, their life pairs were updated without fail about constant itches and appetites. The Weyrlingmaster, T'mir, the older bluerider who had been on the Search that turned up G'ny, taught them to gently set the expectations of their dragonets. This established a mental discipline for dragon and rider to share in. It also allowed him periods uninterrupted by all but the most pressing dragonet demands to educate the Weyrling class on how to care for their dragons and of the histories and traditions of the High Reaches Weyr.

Suddenly the Teaching Ballads the Genny once sang as she roamed the Hold fields or hummed as she tended her chores took on new significance. The more upbeat, dragon-inspired compositions had always been her favorites, but they had been frowned upon by her mother, and she had instead been directed to more Hold-minded works such as the Duty Song. G'ny's labors in the Hold hardly prepared her hands for the frequent clutching and pressing of oiling rags and brushes to her partner. No matter how much she dedicated herself to even coatings when she scrubbed and oiled Saleneth's hide, it always looked a little splotchy, a patchwork of hues instead of a single, glowing green. Especially around her left eye, there was a patch that was almost golden compared to the emerald tips of the eye and ear ridges above it. Although this in no way surprised G'ny, given the freckles that dotted her own unique complexion, T'mir assured her that some dragonets just take time to grow into their complexions, and that she was a beautiful specimen nonetheless. On top of tiring and drying out their fingers, G'ny and the other Weyrlings endured workout trainings to hone the rest of their bodies for the physical demands of dragonriding. She took it like the best of them.

The initial taunts from some of the boys, spearheaded by R'nan, about her physical ability to "keep up" quickly subsided. G'ny routinely finished first, ahead of all of the boys, in their daily laps around the Bowl. At worst, she might come in third place on "bad" days. R'nan, with his larger, stockier frame tended to finish more towards the middle or end of the pack. Although he could do more pushups and lift heavier bags of firestone, a simple "let's settle this with a quick race to [a near landmark]" generally shut him up. Beyond that, she did her best to steer clear of the boy.

G'ny often envied the younger counterpart of her life-bond. Saleneth got to enjoy the perks of being a newborn – food at her beck and call, a dedicated scratcher for hard to reach spots, and sleep whenever she pleased – which constituted the better part of the day. Like her fellow clutchmates, Saleneth spent her napping hours in the prime, but ground-accessible, sunny spots under the lazy eyes of other dragons sunning higher above. Meanwhile, G'ny and the Weyrlings were assigned tasks during these moments of otherwise respite. It's not so much that she minded the work, but G'ny would have much preferred to spend the afternoons admiring or at least snuggling up next to her green. Even though they would have lifetime together, every moment she spent away from Saleneth felt lacking.

G'ny suspected a bit of partiality on T'mir's part in assigning chores. Often, G'ny found herself slated to help out in the Lower Caverns, in which she found herself in more feminine company. Lawana in particular took her under her wing, requiring her company on rounds throughout the halls to turn glows, ferry supplies, and prep meals, all familiar occupations from G'ny's Holder days. Perhaps she would go back once the initial training was over. Many dragonriders picked up Crafts during Interval, but most stayed in a Weyr, which was designed to house their dragons. G'ny could hardly imagine Saleneth staying long at Radharc. Stables were no place for such a graceful creature, and there is no way her mother would let her inside the Hold. Perhaps G'ny could move to a room adjacent to one of the sturdy rooftops... Ah well, that was all a long way off, even if portioning out klah into pots while its fragrant steam swirled around her sent her mind back.

"And what are we lost in thought about now?" Lawana asked? Highly intuitive, Lawana often prompted her to speak what was on her mind. G'ny wasn't sure if Lawana's kindness was a ruse for being T'tor's eyes and ears or if this was on her own accord. G'ny appreciated the growing friendship either way. The woman had a knack for knowing everything and anything that was going on in the Weyr and had countless stories to tell. G'ny's favorites were stories about the older riders she so admired from when they were mere Weyrlings like herself.

"Just thinking of home, and whether I'll ever go back."

"Just think, in a Turn's time you'll have instant transport back there whenever you want." Lawana suggested, ever cheerful. She saw the roll of G'ny's eyes. "I know what you mean. It's a question bigger than if you'll ever visit. It's a common worry when Holder born Weyrlings first join us. Follow your heart to where you belong. I imagine the Hold was all you had ever known until it grew and encompassed Saleneth."

"I can't help but feel like I am letting them all down. I practically ran that place. Ma even relented her suggestions that I marry well she was so proud of me."

"She must still be. Look at you now. I would certainly give you a glowing recommendation. As long as you don't forget to take those bubbly pies out of the oven on time!" Lawana sent her scampering away from her troubled musings.

G'ny appreciated the friendship that was growing with Lawana and never dreaded being assigned "women's work," as the boys so often derided it so frequently. Some of them, the other green riders especially, tolerated it better than others when their own rotations came up, and most learned a greater appreciation for the hard work of the Lower Cavern staff that would carry on for their stay at the Weyr. Still, G'ny made it onto the slate for the least preferable, and much fouler smelling task, mucking out the wallows in the Weyrling barracks, often enough to distract from the amount of time she spent in the Lower Caverns.

One morning, G'ny was on one such rotation with R'nan and his two most loyal followers. They each started at separate points in the barracks, and G'ny made a point of choosing that farthest from R'nan. Between the four of them, they would each take three wallows and split the odd one out as time allowed. She had just finished her third and was headed over the final, shared one, when hands grabbed her from behind and a strip of leather was forced into her mouth.

"Let's see how quick you are when you're tied up where no one can find you." She heard R'nan's voice hiss in her ear. G'ny writhed as the three boys lifted her off her feet and started dragging her towards one of the unoccupied alcoves at the far end of the Weyrling barracks.

A sudden flash of greens and glowing reds, accompanied by a series of shrill screams and hisses, filled the room as Saleneth suddenly appeared in front of the marauding group, lunging towards the boys. G'ny fell hard on her bottom as the boys frantically tried to disperse from the path of the protective green. In her flurry, one of Saleneth's wingtips clipped R'nan hard on the jaw and she scratched one of the other boys on the leg. She doubled back around, herding the errant youths into one of the alcoves, wings outstretched, barring their escape. _HOW DARE YOU. YOU WILL NOT DO THIS AGAIN_. G'ny heard Saleneth's outrage thunder in her mind, and the boys must have heard it too. Tears started streaking down the face of each boy – even that of the bluerider who had managed to avoid physical contact with G'ny's unexpected protector. Outside, the keening of three small dragons could be heard, with deeper roars joining in the fray.

_What are you doing here? How? You were outside, sleeping and sunning yourself a minute ago._ G'ny inquired in shock.

_You were in trouble. I needed to be where you were. I saw through your eyes for where you were, and... leaped._ Saleneth had just nonchalantly described the process of going _between_, which she was not supposed to even attempt for another thirty sevendays, far after she mastered flying, G'ny realized. _Oh, and I called for reinforcements._

The tamping of four pairs of boots announced the arrival of the Weyrleader and his Wingleaders. "What is the meaning of this?" T'tor exclaimed. C'lin, sizing up the situation and with M'tou close behind him, hurried over to the spot of G'ny's rather undignified landing. The young men freed her from the bonds that the boys had started securing around her arms and helped her to her feet. L'can stood at T'tor's right hand side ready to interrogate the boys and prevent their escape. T'tor's eyes unfocused slightly as his dragon filled him in on the details withheld by the mute, sobbing boys.

Saleneth backed down, her eyes subsiding to a weary yellow, and hurried over to check on her mate. _You are okay? _ She inquired.

Yes dear, just a little shaken, and I might have a bit of a sore behind for a few days. G'ny reassured her, lowering down to her knee to throw her arms around the little green's neck.

After a moment's pause Saleneth persisted. _Numbweed? Oil? Oil makes me feel better._

_I don't know that I'll need that. _ G'ny looked at her thoughtfully. _What do you even know of numbweed, I haven't had cause to apply it to you yet!_

_Polidarth said it helped him when he hurt his wing on a tree branch when I asked him what might help you._

_That's very sweet. Thank you. Honestly, the boys might need it more than me after the number you pulled on them._ Did everyone in the Weyr know of this incident already? G'ny felt self-conscious knowing that the Weyrleader's important day had been interrupted by antics she felt she must have caused.

_They don't deserve it,_ was the indignant reply.

Just then Lawana came rushing in, huffing, a jar of the salve in her hand. "I just heard a voice call for numbweed in the barracks. It sounded urgent. What is going on?" G'ny looked again at her dragon. _Yes, I called her too. I knew she would know best how to care for you because I do not yet. Fear not, the dragons of the wrongdoers have assured me they will never attempt such a stunt again._

T'mir too arrived at the scene with two of the Weyrlings he had had been supervising washing his Tolluth and instructing in the ways of dragon anatomy. The two boys had their sleeves rolled up to their elbows and were wet all down their fronts. "S'ten, J'massy, please go round up your fellow Weyrlings, you'll find their locations on the posted schedule. Have everyone wrap up what they are doing and meet outside in the bowl with their dragonets for some guided pair bonding." T'mir instructed calmly. The two boys scampered away.

With Lawana already tending to the scraped boys under T'tor's watchful eye, and C'lin, M'tou and L'can making quick work of the remaining wallow, T'mir guided G'ny over to her barrack. "Let's take a few moments to compose ourselves before we meet the others outside. Just take a few deep breaths, there you go, it's all right, but let's not try any more of that going between anytime soon, until I have instructed you properly. I am going to step out to corral the others. Meet us when you are ready." T'mir soothed.

He watched to make sure she and Saleneth remained calm before heading out. G'ny looked deeply into her dragon's eyes, which were beginning to show flashes of blue, and stroked behind her dark head knobs. She had immediately felt better upon Saleneth's unexpected arrival and the continued physical contact they shared only put them both more at ease.

When G'ny stepped outside, all nine of the uninvolved Weyrlings were assembled, trying to quiet their awake and frantic dragons. The three boys involved in the heist emerged shortly after her. Moura and Azirith had also been called. Azirith's shining bulk commanded the attention of everyone gathered, and Moura stood in her wake next to T'mir as he addressed the pupils.

"This morning, a troubling event has occurred. As members of a Weyr and clutchmates of each other we – and you – all feel this turn of events deeply. This is a family, and you are all connected. It is very unfortunate that this has happened. The ne'er-do-wells have and will continue to be punished, and I think we can all take this as a lesson to refrain from such pranks in the future.

"Your dragons are all feeling unsettled. You must calm them with your thoughts. You must affirm to them your dedication to this Weyr and to each other. Rub them gently in their favorite places. Tolluth and Azirith will also be checking in with each of them."

Just as order was settling over the Weyrlings, two golden figures approached from across the bowl. One was a graceful woman with golden hair; the other was a smaller bundle of clumsiness with golden hide. Allika's chiding reprimands faded before the two were properly in earshot to make out what she was saying. _Hiya, Genny, Saleneth, you two seem to be in all the dragon's thoughts, really commanded our clutch's attention,_ a chipper voice declared to G'ny's benefit. _Boy is Allika upset that you and not she are the center of attention. _ The little golden's voice seemed amused, if not a little approving.

"Come on Mirith, you tell them it's alright, just like we worked on with the Weyrwoman," Allika said aloud, puffing out her chest. Saleneth rumbled softly following a slight pause after at this suggestion. _I don't think the weyrwoman is privy to her dragon's message,_ Saleneth informed G'ny but did not elaborate. Before retreating back to the weyrwoman's quarters, Allika checked in on R'nan, giving Branth a scratch on the eye ridge while R'nan offered his jaw for inspection. G'ny rolled her eyes and turned her attention back on Saleneth.


	4. Settling In & Traveling Out of the Weyr

_Many thanks to Anne & Todd McCaffrey for providing us with such a beautiful sandbox in which to play in. Any copyright herein is acknowledged to be a derivative work and honors all copyright and requests in the original work._

The days of Weyrling training continued without any such disruptions. Each day, G'ny rose, fed and oiled her dragon and lightly stretched the both of them out before breakfast. G'ny had despised mornings prior to bonding with Saleneth, but it was such a pleasant way to wake up, with the little green trilling encouragement and exchanging positive thoughts throughout the whole routine that she learned a whole new outlook for the time. These stretches were becoming the most important part of a Weyrling's duties, as these were the formative periods for wings that would need both strength and agility for flight.

In their morning drills, Tolluth led the dragonets in flapping their wings while attempting to balance on their hind legs and encouraged practice throughout the day, once they regained their energy back. A nap was still usually in order after these sessions. Concurrently, T'mir would start the youths with a lecture on the Major Holds, Minor Holds, and Crafthalls and Crafts that thrived in the region under High Reaches' protection. These facts are not just trivia, but the livelihoods of the people dragonriders were sworn to protect, so each Weyrling had better be prepared when it came to written exams, T'mir warned.

Once the dragonets awoke, they would become involved with firestone and wing formation drills. Although the dragons remained grounded, which only accentuated their awkward gaits, this drill served to familiarize the dragons with relating their telepathic link to one another into spatial terms. The Weyrlings would run alongside their partners, after having identified and picked up the proper type of firestone for the situation T'mir called out – dense Thread, sporatic Thread, overhead Thread, clumped Thread, Thread front, and the like. As the dragons still too young to actually chew firestone, they merely collected the called-for sack. Although these were scenarios this Weyrling class would likely never see in the middle of an Interval, it was important to pass these skills down for posterity – and to be prepared in the event of unexpected assaults on the planet. Thread was but a memory recorded in history books to the Weyrlings, as it had not fallen for over 160 Turns. Many rumored that Thread would never fall again. Fortunately relations were good with most of the local holders. T'mir and Moura regularly dispatched riders to be of use to these holds in order to maintain good relations and justify the tithes they still collected.

Overhead, the regular fighting wings conducted their own drills and would mirror the drill at hand at least once in the day, a lesson for which T'mir instructed the Weyrlings to be especially attentive. Sometimes he would not announce the occasion, waiting to see which of the Weyrlings would recognize the parallelism – identifying Wing patterns and sharpening awareness were both crucial skills for dragonriders. Although G'ny and Saleneth were often the first to catch on to these coincidences, they learned when to delay the revelation of their knowledge or at least signal their discovery to a friendly rider so that he may take the credit. G'ny was not sure if J'massy would have volunteered his share of answers without her help.

Two and a half months into training, Saleneth demonstrated the first maneuver that could really be considered a rudimentary form of flying. One morning, as she began one of her numerous self-initiated flapping exercises, she coupled the movement with a powerful spring from her hind legs. G'ny giggled at first and ran, concerned, to the side of her dragon on this first attempt, which culminated in the dragonet tripping snout first into the ground. A dozen brush-off/warm-up flaps later, Saleneth made her second attempt. This time, she was able to angle her wings enough to stabilize herself, landing back on her hind legs after a moment of her body being parallel to the earth. Although a stump in the Bowl was intended exactly for this purpose, Saleneth did not want to deal with the other dragonets who were still practicing balance on its edge. Skipping the crowded stump, Saleneth tried her form the next day from an elevated ledge of the Bowl up to which she was able to climb with her taloned forearms. Stretching her wings wide, Saleneth glided a good three times her length from the height equal to her own outstretched length she climbed. Delighted by her progress, she attempted the exercise a second time, this time adding in two flaps of her wings, giving her trajectory a second peak of altitude and another length of glide.

As the Weyrlings became more familiar with Wing formations, they began working with the Fighting Wings to supply firestone. Most of the time, the dragons would just hand off and carry the firestone without actually chewing it, as there were concerns about exhausting the known firestone mines during Interval when the rock was not needed for survival. At first, the Fighting dragons would have to land and wait for their Weyrling's delivery, but, over time, the anticipating Weyrlings would be able to gently toss the necessary package so that a Fighting dragon could catch it during a swoop close to the ground. G'ny, S'ten, and J'massy were assigned together mostly to C'lin's Wing for these initial drills.

C'lin was a lively, raucous man, the eldest of the still young Wingleader ranks. As part of their training together, C'lin would make sure that each Weyrling got a few minutes each day riding adragonback with one of his riders. Afterwards, he could often be heard coordinating swims in the Bowl Lake that occasionally earned the group reprimands from Lawana and the other Lower Caverns women for being late for dinner. C'lin, affable to a fault, would waive these criticisms off with a wink and a peck on the cheek or pinch to the waist of the stern woman. C'lin was known to get around the Lower Caverns. He often exposed his manly, barreled chest through the deep V he left flirtatiously unlaced in his jerkin. In private, he was said to be sensitive and a relatable listener. If supplies ever ran low in the Lower Caverns, he was the first to know, advocate for, and effect their replenishment – the longer he had to fly or the larger the load he had to carry, the more he relished the task for the heroism it would bring him among the ladies. S'ten and J'massey whispered their disapproval of his flaunting behavior in an attempt to warn and protect G'ny, but she always found him to be inviting but respectful. While he referred to her by pet names such as "darling," and "my sweet," and made references to her figure and appearance, he was always careful to stop short of anything that would make her uncomfortable.

"Forget T'mir's lessons, what would he, a bluerider, know about the ways of women? You come to me if you have any questions about mating flights!" C'lin offered. He was efficacious and blunt with the proposal, but never pushed his luck into unwanted, messy details. Still, G'ny preferred the counsel of her Weyrlingmaster even as the hours spent under his tutelage each day began to dwindle. G'ny, S'ten, and J'massy remained assigned to C'lin's wing for afternoon drills even as their dragons began to take more prolonged flight.

Starting in the fourth month of their training, G'ny would on occasion slip out from the free time allotted to Weyrlings after the evening meal to practice with Saleneth out in the Bowl. The stump now free as all of her clutchmates were exhausted, Saleneth would hop up, joined by G'ny, to practice balancing with the presence of her rider. At first, G'ny started with just firestone sacks, then she leaned with half of her weight. Finally, the two of them made a short glide off the stump together, G'ny clutching Saleneth's neck, around their sixth clandestine session together. By their ninth, Saleneth could take off from the ground, eek in enough frantic flaps to ascend high enough to execute a tight loop down, and land with acceptable grace. The feeling was exhilarating. There was no other feeling like being linked with her partner and have the cool night wind rushing through her hair. Being a dragonrider was every bit as wonderful as she ever imagined it could be.

The pair would only have a fortnight to wait to show off their new proficiency to their cohort. In the meantime, T'mir honed and tested in earnest the Weyrlings' skills in making, repairing, and inspecting fighting straps until they met T'mir's exacting standards. Many Weyrlings complained that they were not yet allowed to ride on their partners as their dragons became more proficient in flight. Finally, just before the season began turning for the cold in serious, T'mir instructed the Weyrlings mount their partners prior to the morning's first takeoff. At last, on the count of three, the dragons were instructed to take off with their partners. The chaos that ensued was evocative of those first few days of flapping failure, with more than one dragon scuffing his nose in the dirt. A few of the larger boys, R'nan and J'massey included, would both be applying numbweed onto scrapes they acquired when their dragons fell over under their unbalanced weight, pitching them hard into the dirt. Such disaster was exhibited by everyone except G'ny and Saleneth. Instead, they rose up to the height of the first level of Weyrs, descending in a controlled spiral to land in their spot of departure. By the time they were reunited with the ground, G'ny could feel the gaze of many pairs of eyes upon her. They are impressed, Saleneth summarized. T'mir clapped his hands in praise.

"Been practicing on our own, haven't we?" he inquired, an eyebrow raised. A sheepish color spread across G'ny's cheeks. "Nonsense, nonsense, such dedication to the craft is always encouraged."

The next thing G'ny knew, a flurry of bronze had swooped down into the training class and she was engulfed in one of C'lin's bear hugs. "That's my girl!" He bragged. "She's in my wing!" He announced to the Weyrlings and small group of dragonriders that had started to congregate, ruffling her hair.

T'mir continued his instruction for the rest of the Weyrlings. "You see, just because your dragon can fly does not mean he or she is ready for you to just hop up and start flying around together. You all will begin practicing with firestone sacks to get your dragons accustomed to added weight. Then, you will transition to a task in which you will finally be useful – elevator duty. Your dragons will be responsible for helping ferry supplies up to the weyrs. Make sure to check the board in the Lower Caverns for your extra assignments for the day."

That night, Lawana made sure there were extra helpings to be had at the evening meal. "It may not be occasion for a proper feast, but you two certainly deserve an extra helping tonight. I've even made a batch of nutcake," she winked at G'ny. As each dragon and rider pair successfully demonstrated flight together, T'mir began assigning weyrs. G'ny and Saleneth were the first to move out of the Weyrling barracks and up to a spacious weyr up towards the top of the caldera. G'ny enjoyed the privacy and view of being so high up.

At last, all three of the Weyrlings assigned to C'lin's wing were able to sustain flight with their dragons, and were invited to join the group on a sweep ride. Because the Weyrlings had not yet attempted the intricacies of traveling _between_, these first trips would be entirely flown and would remain local. After a sevenday circling the slopes of the High Reaches summit, C'lin decided it was time to introduce his newest Wing additions to some of the closer Holds. Their first trip out of the perimeter of the Weyr, the Wing flew to Pars, the closest Minor Hold. The trip over there took a little over an hour at a moderate pace. They would be flying there, stopping to rest, and meeting the inhabitants, C'lin informed the Weyrlings. C'lin must have alerted the residents as well, as a celebratory midday meal was already in the works when they arrived. Here too, C'lin's reputation preceded him, as he planted an overly-familiar wet kiss on the cheek of the Hold's Headwoman.

"Residents of Pars, it is my, C'lin, rider of bronze Ormath's, pleasure to introduce to you your newest humble dragonriders, ready to serve you in Pass and Interval." A sea of clapping met C'lin's announcement. In his deep alto, C'lin began, "_Honor those the dragons heed, in thought and favor, word and deed. Worlds are lost and worlds are saved, from those dangers dragon-braved._" The clapping faded as instruments were picked up and other voices joined in the legendary Harper songs.

The next sevenday, the Wing made a similar appearance at Keogh, and a sevenday after that at Ogren. These trips were about twice as long and the whole journey took up the better part of the day. G'ny enjoyed very much being in the familiar setting of a Minor Hold and long awaited the day she could make the journey to her beloved Radharc, where she would be reunited with her family, who she had grown to really miss. Many of the Holders remarked on the oddity of a female dragon rider. During the course of the midday festivities at this third destination, the Ogren Lady Holder approached G'ny.

"Greenrider," she began tentatively, "I am wondering, do you think you would be available for transport to Gathers? Ogren usually receives assistance for transport for high ranking individuals for the more important Gathers in a Turn, and it would just be so novel to be carried in by a woman. Plus, I would feel more comfortable with my daughters being under your influence, not that I impute any bad intentions on dragonriders." The woman requested, then added quickly.

"I will certainly ask the permission of the Weyrleader, and it is still a little early for Saleneth here to be lifting many passengers, but it would certainly be an honor and she is growing quickly." G'ny promised.

"Oh, excellent, I hope to see you! I am Mirdella," Mirdella affirmed. "And these are my daughters Midenna and Denalay. Though they are a bit young, they are well behaved and I think they deserve to attend their first Gather soon, although I think the long trek would be too much via caravan." She introduced, gesturing to two girls around eight and ten Turns each. G'ny continued her stay at Ogren with a new perspective, honored that she might be returning to ferry its inhabitants to important events.


	5. Gathering Skills

The intricacies of Weyrling training kicked up in intensity as G'ny and Saleneth's tenth month together approached. While flying and hunting were each new and scary experiences, G'ny knew that going _between _was one of the most dangerous things a dragonrider could attempt. A poorly envisioned destination could easily end a dragon and rider. _You worry too much, and you forget I have already successfully gone _between_. This will not be so hard. _ Saleneth reassured her. The lessons for going _between_ would be conducted with the combined group of all Weyrlings under T'mir. First, they practiced receiving coordinates from T'mir and Tolluth, vibrant images of illustrations they had seen in Teaching Hides and commemorative tapestries. However, their first true jumps would be small, to one side of the Bowl and back – destinations that could be seen directly and did not require a projected visualization. T'mir successfully hid the fact that he held his breath at each pair's first journey, but anyone standing next to him would have heard an audible whoosh when each pair reappeared.

G'ny's thoughts wandered to her beloved Radharc. _Let's do it, come on, while T'mir's distracted, he won't notice!_ Saleneth encouraged her. Without much resistance, G'ny ruefully gave her partner the unauthorized coordinates. They burst out over Radharc in a place G'ny knew she would attract little attention from others but would satisfy hers. She knew they could only stay a moment, but it warmed G'ny's heart to see the familiar landscape spread out before her. Quickly, they returned to the Bowl to encourage their fellow Weyrlings in the new skill. T'mir cast a suspicious glance at them when their return must have caught just the corner of his eye.

Lessons increased in complexity, both moving out to larger ranges and honing in on more pinpointed locations. Although it was a binary determination of whether or not a pair emerged, once these tasks of greater finesse were introduced, Saleneth really shined. For one drill, Weyrlings had to emerge in a safe zone between older dragons' flame. Only once T'mir was satisfied by their control did they attempt to go between in formations. Once between had started becoming familiar, the Weyrlings moved onto learning how to flame with firestone.

"Alright lads, it's time for you to learn the time-honored method of flaming with firestone. In these Threadless times, it is less skill important for you to all to master, but enough of you need to know it well enough to teach future generations. We are also conscious of conserving firestone resources. Despite the discovery of the bountiful new firestone mines, due to the scare in the Third Pass, which you all know about from your written exams, the Masterminers have regulated us to a schedule, just to make sure there is a bounty when it is needed. Therefore, only the most successful of you will continue in your studies of firestone, and you will likely be placed in the Weyrleader's wing. But there is plenty allotted for today. Plus, as you all already know, and W'lan and Filith know firsthand, greens need to flame to maintain the quality of our dragon populations. W'lan, would the two of you step up for the first demonstration?"

G'ny watched as W'lan offered a bag of firestone to Filith. She dutifully inserted her snout and started chewing a mouthful. After a few moments, her eyes whirled a little faster, she perched back on her hind legs, and let a stream of flame about four feet long out of her mouth. Although G'ny had seen flashes as the Weyrleader's wing practiced in the distance before, G'ny had never been so close to a flaming dragon.

G'ny noticed T'tor watching the proceedings with interest from a shady spot at the side of the Bowl. While Saleneth had succeeded in many other aspects of dragontraining, it developed that this was an area in which she would struggle. She less than gracefully accepted her first mouthful, biting her tongue in the process and spitting out most of the portion. G'ny waited a few minutes for Saleneth's tongue to stop smarting and the grey whirring of her eyes to die down before she tried giving her a smaller subsequent batch. Over Saleneth's shoulder, Gny could see that R'nan and Branth spewed a sustained, eight foot flame. Comparatively, Saleneth had only managed a small trickle by the time the break was called after an hour of practicing. She supposed that the pair would not be one of those who selected to carry on the teaching of firestone; while she knew there were many other duties within the Weyr to fill her time, she was chagrined nonetheless at their performance. During a break in the lesson T'tor made his rounds commenting on dragons' flaming abilities. At last, he approached G'ny.

"I know this is last minute, but I have been preoccupied of late. I wanted to circle back to the request you relayed to me by Lady Holder Mirdella for transport to Gathers. The end of Turn Gather at High Reaches Hold is right around the corner, it would probably be the best time to make your debut, and Saleneth is looking quite capable at flying, if not at flaming. Would you like to commence your transport duties?

"Sure, Weyrleader, as long as you think it proper and us ready." G'ny accepted, appreciating that T'tor chose to focus on areas of her dragon's abilities, rather than disabilities.

"I do. Excellent, I know it is an imposition on your Weyrling training, but it looks like Saleneth have had enough flaming, and since Saleneth has had her _serving_," T'tor emphasized the word, "you two should be good to go. We will be having a meeting going over routes in half an hour. You are excused from the remainder of today's lesson, if you would like a bit of time to freshen up before meeting us in the Council Room."

Two dozen riders were gathered in the Council room for the dividing up of assignments. Before actually transporting passengers in two days, the riders would spend their time familiarizing themselves with the coordinates that would take them to and from the Gather. The visualization lessons from the preceding month were still fresh in G'ny's mind. There would be a rider assigned for each minor hold, and they would also be tasked with staying throughout the Gather to keep peace and ensure that anything that might need the skills of a dragon be taken care of.

G'ny had enjoyed the Gathers when she had gone as the guest of Radharc's Lady Holder. In addition to looking forward to stocking her garden, G'ny had always looked forward to seeing the dragon that would visit their hold. Because she had always proven herself to be a capable rider, G'ny had only made the journey via runnerbeast, alongside the wagons of goods brought to and from the Gather. Therefore, she knew what a special experience it would be for the holders to interact with a dragonrider and was honored to play the part.

Mirdella, Midenna, and Denalay were in their Gather finery when G'ny arrived. The two young girls abruptly stopped rubbing sleep out of their eyes when they saw Saleneth circling overhead. As instructed, she had brought along extra furs for the ride so that no one caught a chill. The Lord Holder, who G'ny had not interacted with as much on her previous visit, was present as well. G'ny knew that traveling _between_ would be ideal because the journey would take about five hours if flown. However, given the young age of some of her passengers, G'ny knew going _between_ could be a terrifying experience, so she would need to prepare them well, or else this journey might not be feasible. After explaining the situation to the Lord and Lady Holder, who acknowledged that the girls could stay home if needed, she knelt down to their eye level.

"Good morn! Are you girls excited for your first Gather?" G'ny asked sweetly.

"Yes!" The older one, Midenna, exclaimed. The other one nodded and stuck her thumb in her mouth, casting an eye at her sister.

"Awesome, this is my dragon, Saleneth, why don't you say hi? You can pet under her chin, if you would like." G'ny knew that it was important to instill trust in the girls a trust in their transport. They both reached up to do as G'ny suggested.

"Ma, you said we would ride a _green_ dragon." The smaller girl said in her childish whine. Mirdella immediately cast a scandalized, apologetic look towards G'ny on behalf of her daughter. G'ny was familiar with bracing herself for comments about her partner's odd complexion by now. "This is a _rainbow_ dragon, way better!" She exclaimed. The two girls clamored to point out different hues they saw in Saleneth's mottled hide. Mirdella softened a little as G'ny smiled.

"Okay, so have you heard about going _between_? It's pretty cold, and a little bit scary for some people, but Saleneth is really good at it. Do you think you could trust us? We've got plenty of furs to keep you warm." Both girls nodded bravely. "Okay, I am going to take your mother first, so that you have a nice friendly face to greet you when you arrive, how does that sound? Also, then you can see, I can go and come back, no problem. Mirdella, are you ready?"

"Yes, thank you." Mirdella accepted graciously. The two girls stepped back from the dragon to hold their father's hand as their mother progressed forwards. G'ny mounted up first and extended a hand to the Lady Holder. Saleneth leaped and with four wingbeats had cleared the height at which it would be safe to leap between. G'ny and Saleneth imagined the coordinates of High Reaches Hold. It was already bustling when she arrived with Mirdella, so she found a clear corner where the family could easily reunite. Her first passenger successfully delivered, G'ny returned to Ogren for the girls.

"See, nothing to it," G'ny announced when she landed. The two girls bundled up without a fuss, each with a gleam of excitement in her eye. Their father sat behind them, bookending them between himself and G'ny. G'ny verbally walked everyone through each step of the process. Denalay gave a small cheer when they emerged above High Reaches Hold. Mirdella maternally helped each of her daughters down. Before she turned to shepherd her family through the crowd into the Hold proper, Mirdella clasped G'ny's hand.

"Thank you so much for your patience and excellent explanation. I just know my family is going to have a wonderful Gather because of you!" G'ny was touched by the woman's gratitude as she watched them disappear inside.

G'ny and Saleneth ascended to the fireheights, where two other riders who had also finished with their transport duties had gathered. C'lin, as the highest ranking member of their entourage, would be going over watch assignments. Between the eight of them assigned to High Reaches, they would be paired up into three, three hour watches over the course of the day and a half they were stationed at the Gather and would have the remainder of the time to enjoy the event. Given their previous work together in the wing and G'ny's junior status, G'ny and C'lin would be paired up for these watches. Although G'ny had successfully progressed through the combat training, she knew that her figure would not cut nearly as impressively as C'lin's in the event that she needed to intervene on any occasion.

During her free shift, G'ny's thoughts wandered to her family and what they would be doing at the Tillek Gather as she wandered around High Reaches. G'ny and her brother, Jyrenry, always loved guessing the weight of the top Masterfishall catches once they were old enough to join the caravan in. Her father always had wares he brought to showcase. When he could wrangle G'ny and Jyrenry to man the booth with explicit instructions on how many marks he would accept for each, he would wander off perusing the trinkets of the other stalls, usually so lost in thought that one of them had to go scouting to bring him back. Jyrenry always tried to make a few extra marks off passersby by offering a performance on the pipes he always kept handy. It was no surprise when he was accepted to Harper Hall. G'ny wondered if her brother would be excused from his studies at Harper Hall for the Gather. Wherever he was, he was probably putting his studies into practice, either commissioned or gratuitously. G'ny and Jyrenry often split the tending of the stall because they could never plan for if her mother would make it out. The night before or morning the family was set to leave, she would announce that there were too many duties that would be left untended for her to possibly leave her home. G'ny knew that social gatherings stressed her mother out and hours in a caravan made her cross, but on the odd year she made it out, Diedra was unparalleled in finding thoughtful gifts at incredible deals.

G'ny looked at the stalls around her trying to imagine what kind of marvelous wares her mother would identify, but the inventories all just overwhelmed her. More interesting, she found, were the stories of how each merchant came to sell his wares, whether it be a family tradition or childhood obsession that led him to man his particular Gather stall. She lingered particularly long at one stall where a woman and her aging husband featured the kind of aromatic plants G'ny had collected back home. She wondered wistfully whether the Lady Holder or her mother had cared for her little garden back home. Periodically, she would cross paths with Mirdella, who would excitedly introduce her to other minor Lady Holders with whom she was friendly, or at least a little competitive. G'ny was grateful when C'lin caught her eye for their first shift together, effectively excusing her from a boorish conversation about Holder formalities.

However, when the time came for their next watch together late that evening, C'lin was a hard man to find. At last she found him, leaning against a Hold wall, a bauxom woman in his arms. Not sure how to catch his attention after waving failed, G'ny knocked a glass jug off a nearby table, causing a crash that roused his attention. She reasoned that cleaning up the broken shards was preferable to more direct attempts at disturbing her Wingleader. In hindsight, G'ny realized that having her dragon bespeak Ormath would have been a better option. The pair dispersed and C'lin quickly came to her aid to clean up the hazard.

"Ah, stealthy girl. You won't tell on your Wingleader, C'lin, will you? I'm totally functional. This is how we dragonriders often spend our Gathers!" G'ny could smell the wine on his breath, but his words still came out clearly. It hardly surprised G'ny that she was the responsible one when her counterpart outranked her given her track record back at Radharc.

As the second day of the Gather came to a close, G'ny loitered in the area she had arranged to meet back up with the Ogren Holder family. At last, she saw them striding gaily towards her. In her arms, little Denalay hugged a small pot.

"It's for you!" She said, outstretching her arms.

"Oh, thank you!" G'ny exclaimed happily, hugging each member of the family in turn after inhaling the scent of the herb, a sweet variant of lemongrass with delicate yellow flowers, deeply.

"I wanna be a dragonrider just like G'ny when I grown up!" Denalay exclaimed as she clambered up. G'ny scooted back a little to make a spot in front of her, where Denalay could sit and enjoy the view better.

"The girls really wanted to get you something, and when we asked around, we heard this might be something you would like. They insisted it have flowers." Mirdella explained. G'ny indeed loved the present. From her extensive flora knowledge she knew, however, that the fragile plant would not fare well _between_, so she would have to make a special trip for it. She quickly explained her plan so as to not seem ungrateful when she carefully placed the pot in a safe spot for her imminent return instead of packing it up directly. Although it was not a Gather precisely like she was used to, many of the highlights remained the same: fun memories, deepened relationships with others, and even a new plant. She would cherish them all long after she had returned to the Weyr. She was happy she had Impressed a color that allowed her to tend to rider duties outside of the Weyr. She was, after all, a Holder at heart, and the opportunity to return would always tantalize her. Had she Impressed a queen, she doubted she would be given such leeway. Allika never seemed to leave the Weyr, after all.


	6. Conflict of Values

"T'mir! T'mir!" G'ny careened into her mentor's weyr. "I think it's going to happen. Saleneth is way more ravenous than usual, and her color is off – in a good way, I think? She's practically starting to glow, and then there's me. I feel weird. And ugh, I don't know what's going on. Well, I do, you've warned me about this but what do I do? I don't want this to happen. I thought I could just ignore it and maybe it wouldn't happen."

"Shh, shh, shh. It will be alright. I've been thinking of a plan for some time." T'mir stepped out to the ledge of his weyr after giving the girl a hug. Indeed, Saleneth was easier than usual to pick out in the dusk. Perhaps it was just the last golden rays of sun hitting her, but she did almost seem to glow. As the Weyrlingmaster, it was T'mir's job to note the progress of each hatchling and its rider. Saleneth sure had made an impact on her weyrling class. She was the largest of the greens, and even larger than Crenth, the smaller of the browns. She was a fine, albeit unusual specimen. Her coloring never entirely evened out, her edges rich in color while inner swathes remained light and some splotches downright yellowish. Except in the moments when she was stricken by the weyrling clumsiness she had also never completely grown out of or perhaps it was a clumsiness induced by her unusual size, Saleneth was just as agile as any of the greens. Plus, her added size gave her a stamina unknown to her hatchling counterparts. The others deferred to her as well. No bronzes had come from Azirith's last clutch, and as such the much more conciliatory browns, blues, and other greens were much more amenable to the orders of others, especially hers.

Two browns, four blues, seven greens, and one queen comprised the clutch, not that T'mir dealt much with the queen or her rider. Dealing with Allika and Mirith was Weyrwoman territory, and boy did Allika keep the Weyrwoman's hands full. He had known Allika to bully the Lower Cavern staff even when she was among their ranks, so he could only imagine the disrespect she might attempt now with her added status that the Weyrwoman would have to correct. One saw so little of the Weyrwoman lately, he figured Allika drained most of her energy. He imagined Moura trapped with her in the Records Room trying to pique her interest in Weyr ledgers that didn't entail who was sleeping with whom, which was one of the topics about which she was hyper focused. Perhaps, with the dwindling Weyr numbers, that's the reason she was to be the only junior queenrider – perhaps she would usher in an era of fertility.

T'mir chuckled to himself. G'ny was a leader in all of the ways Allika was not, and he was extremely grateful for the honor of having taught her along with the rest of the Weyrlings. Queenrider or not, she was an extremely well-honed young lady, and T'mir felt privileged to take credit for some fraction of the progress she had made with her dragon; although, he paused thinking of it, he suspected that the pair of them would have figured out much without his tutelage. That she was here now, requesting his help, made his chest swell with pride. As most of the dragons were full grown and graduated from the official Weyrling training, T'mir tended to see less of the pupils he trained to become dragonriders. In his transition into retirement, it was moments such as these, when his students actively sought out his advice that he was most fulfilled.

"We probably have another four days before she rises. You know, it's about time. She is the last of your clutch's greens to rise, isn't she? Nalth rose, what, almost four months ago? You know, some of the more experienced brown and blue riders have been talking, it's the first time they've seen a green with a female rider rise, so you have to indulge their excitement a little bit. I've even heard mentions by certain bronze riders."

"I don't know," G'ny mumbled.

"Don't be so glum, I told you, I have a plan. We'll just take you home to Radharc. Your mother and the other women there will be much more understanding of the situation than any woman here. Plus, without the influence of all the draconic pheromones, they will be much more able to help you. And of course you will be physically removed from any and all riders, including whoever's dragon flies Saleneth. I will take you to Radharc personally and speak with the Holders about the details. Yes, I think this will work. You had better clear it with Allika while the Weyrwoman is out."

"If it's what I want, she'll never let me go!"

"You never know, but it would be much worse to get an unexpected call from a queen dragon in the midst of everything. Best to keep her in the loop. Sometimes people can do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Something tells me that will be a running theme when Allika becomes Weyrwoman."

G'ny found a surprising ally in Allika when she stepped delicately into the junior weyrwoman's weyr.

"Allika? I've come to ask your blessing on something T'mir and I have discussed..." G'ny could feel her face growing hot just at the thought of the matter. "...With regards to the issue of mating flights..." She trailed off.

"Go on," a hint of interest pierced through the weyrwoman's usual disdain.

"Given my Holder upbringing, I..." Little good her many rehearsals did her now as she grasped anew to carefully choose her words. "...I don't think I am ready," She feared the weyrwoman would capitalize on as much discomfort as she let show "for the interpersonal activity involved," Her heart was pounding now and she spit the last words out as quickly as her attempt at a measured cadence would allow, "And when I brought this up to T'mir he suggested that he could take me back to my Hold while Saleneth rises."

"Well, I have always respected the wise counsel of T'mir," G'ny could see the gears turning in the weyrwoman's conniving mind. "I think it's an excellent idea!" She exclaimed after a pause. The corners of her mouth twitched almost into a smirk. "Yes, you and T'mir do what you think necessary, we will be able to handle the joys of your green rising in your absence."

"I don't get it, why would she let me go so easily? I know I was sweating bullets large enough for her to see."

T'mir snorted. "It's quite clear to me she was worried Calleth might fly Saleneth, and it is also painfully obvious that she wants no competition in vying for M'tou's affections. With his looks and position, he certainly is a catch. You would be even more in the way of the fantastical picture she has painted in her mind." Upon further reflection, G'ny supposed it was not that unsurprising. Sending G'ny out of her sight and minimizing her interaction with other dragonriders were two of Allika's great joys when it came to the interloping Holder.

"Yeah, I sure seem to get in her way," G'ny sighed.

T'mir snorted again. "Well, here we go, brace yourself for _between_."

As G'ny and T'mir emerged from between and the landscape of Radharc came into view, G'ny's heart leapt at seeing her family again. It had been just over two Turns already since she had been swept away for the Hatching. Her last view of it was much too brief, not that she was going to bring it up to T'mir although she suspected he knew of her illicit jaunt. She was especially excited to see the latest tinkerings of her father and feel his comforting embrace. She hoped her stay would overlap with her brother's and she could listen to some of his accomplishments out of Harper Hall. Even though her mother's voice ringing through the Weyr halls still echoed in her memory, it would be nice to hear it again, hopefully in a more soothing and content register; in fact, nothing could sound better to her at the moment than her mother affirming her decision on this whole mating flight thing.

It was an intimate gathering her first night back in the Hold, what with the minimal advance notice for her arrival. Although there were many occasions for Hold-wide feasts, it was common for the holders of Radharc to prepare meals within and for the benefit for their single family unit. Her father, Jongen, announced that in her honor, he would finish his work early for the day and roast one of his prime meat cuts - one, he informed her with pride, that he had aged for forty days in their family's allocated space in the Hold cellar. Given the unexpected start, he tended the spit late into the evening. It was a dish of good intention, but flawed logistics. Still, so savory was his creation that it reawakened the appetite that had long since grown tired waiting.

In the meantime, her mother, Diedra, talked her ear off. Of course she listened with brief patience at the reason for G'ny's return, concluding "yes, well, it is well and proper that you should be kept from such an activity" before resuming her prattling - Hold happenings, her brother's Harper apprenticeship accomplishments, unusual patterns in the star charts. Occasionally she would return to the topic of G'ny's greatest concern, adding another layer of opinion, generally a disparagement on dragonmen, before again resuming her other accounts. When prompted, G'ny was able share some of her Wingleader's most flattering moments, to which Diedra responded he could be suitable match in the future, once it wa smore appropriate if he were to be transferred to flying routes that brought G'ny back to Radharc with greater frequency. If only she knew the half of it - in reality, C'lin epitomized everything her mother despised in dragonriders.

When she was able to excuse herself to give her father a hand, G'ny finally had the opportunity to regale someone fully with all of her impressions of the Weyr. Her father was every bit the listener as her mother was the talker. She saw in his eyes a spark of happiness, one that likely mirrored her own as she spoke of her beautiful, variegated green life partner, to whose thoughts and opinions she could still connect, even if they were a bit distant compared to usual. Her father lamented not being able to personally observe her hide, be it that she was back at the Weyr in anticipation of her suitors there.

In contrast to the first night, by the second the Lady Holder had made proper arrangements for the return of her former aide, and the family appeared as guests at a modest feast held in G'ny's honor. Of course, in return, G'ny happily set to work helping with preparations. It was a stark change of pace from the mellow night before. She could overhear Diedra, quick to recount the few stories G'ny had managed to sneak in edgewise the night before to family friends as they approached throughout the evening with stilted accuracy. However, talk quickly devolved into song and dance when the Hold Harper took command of the room. G'ny happily joined in, prancing around and clapping her hands to the rhythm of the music, all the while greeting her old acquaintances with a happy smile and raise of her brow as they passed in merriment. So many of her formative memories had been forged in this very hall. There was much she missed about Hold life, even if her recent responsibilities at the Weyr made it seem like a lifetime ago. The thought of returning someday tantalized her all night.

She knew it was starting late into the afternoon of her third day at home. _ I fly now!_ She heard Saleneth's eager confidence distantly from back at the Weyr and focused it into her own resolve. She ran to the archival room where she knew her mother could be found and grasped her by the hand. "Ma, it's time!" Genny shrieked, pulling her mother up to her quarters. Her mother managed to snag a tray with two cups, a pitcher of _klah_ and another of water from a convenient table before her daughter dragged her up to her childhood room. T'mir and her father had worked together to reinforce the door of her room so that only she and her mother would be inside before T'mir had returned to the Weyr. Genny fell onto her bed just as her surroundings faded away and her vision and Saleneth's became one.

No number of rides on Saleneth could prepare her for the feeling of being one with her. She felt the power of her down strokes beating the air, pushing her higher. Genny dimly felt a mug being pressed into her hands and her mother's encouragement to drink up in her daze. She was vaguely aware of an entourage beginning to gather in the air behind her. Not that they matter, at least not yet. She had their attention. They would have to earn hers. Now was her first time to rise, to command the focus of the Weyr, to show them that she, Saleneth was here. She would fly longer and faster than any of those male-ridden greens. Then all went dark for Genny.

Genny stirred in her sleep. Her mother stroked her hair. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" Genny let out a fuzzy groan. She mentally reached out to her green counterpart. Saleneth was there, sleeping contentedly. Genny sat up and shook her head.

"Fellis?"

"Yes, I thought... and T'mir agreed," her mother began tentatively.

"Thanks." Genny was glad she had missed the climax of it all, but the rising action did strike her. Her mother breathed a sigh of relief.

"I know you are doing your best to do this dragonrider thing, but I will always look out for my little girl. I am so happy to have had you home. I know that weyrwoman of yours needs you back. I hope I get to see you back next time as well, there will always be glows to turn and wherries to dress for you here." Her mother winked at her. As such tasks were now less common for her to perform as a dragonrider, it was reassuringly reminiscent for Genny to conduct such domestic business.

Genny stood up groggily and headed out to the common area. Her father and T'mir were seated at a table sharing _klah_. The finale of the mating flight must have been his cue to return to fetch her. "Ah there she is, that's my girl. How are you feeling?" Genny gave her sire as hearty of a smile as the wearing-off _fellis_ would allow. "That's great. Well, we've sure enjoyed having you home. T'mir says you might be back like this a few times a Turn? Definitely try to claim those days leading up – maybe even a day or two more! We've hardly made a dent in finishing up that feast from last night, and I always look forward to when you lend a hand in the cooking." Her father rose to accompany her out to the landing where Tolluth awaited.


	7. The Greenleader

T'mir furrowed his brow as he gave G'ny a hand up onto Tolluth. "Tolluth says you are to report straight to the Council Room when we land." Genny grunted as she heaved herself over Tolluth's neck. She held on to the riding straps as Tolluth launched himself into the dark night air. The cold of _between_ finally cleared the remaining _fellis_ juice from her head. What could the Weyrleader want with her, especially at this hour? In passing the weyrwoman's hall, she felt a colder than usual vibe coming from Allika's quarters.

G'ny knocked on the wall outside the Weyrleader's quarters and strode into the anteroom that served as the Weyr's strategic conference room upon a verbal invitation.

"Ah, the girl of the hour. G'ny, come in. Henceforth, you will be training under T'ten to become L'can's junior Wingsecond." T'tor announced in his usual, direct manner. G'ny looked bewildered around the room. The four wingleaders – T'tor, L'can, M'tou, and C'lin, their eight wingseconds, and the Weyrwoman were gathered around the table. L'can gave her a small smile and wave from his spot at the table. G'ny and Saleneth, as only recently graduated Weyrlings, had previously just flown firestone packs in the practice flights officially. The "sweeps" out to the nearby Holds could hardly even count towards practicing formation flying. Greens were never given positions of prominence as they were expected to rotate two to three shifts in Threadfall. As such, even in Interval times, when Wings focused more on surveillance and practice for the sake of keeping tradition alive, it was customary to retain this hierarchy.

"Sir?" G'ny squeaked. Her eyes darted over to C'lin, whose service she would have to leave.

"Surely after Saleneth's performance this afternoon you must agree it would be proper?" G'ny stared at the Weyrleader dumbly, but meaning no disrespect. "You don't know? That's right, Allika said you were out. Your Saleneth put on quite the flight earlier. Outlasted all the blues and browns who chased her. Just bronzes left at the end, and L'can's Bremeth was the victor."

"Oh." G'ny could hardly feel her legs. What was the meaning of all this? Of course she knew there would be some things she had to deal with in light of Saleneth rising, but a meeting with the Weyrleader? A Wingleader involved?

"With that stamina and now that, _hmph_, bond with the Wingleader, or at least his dragon, we thought it would make sense." T'tor spelled it out plainly. "Everything clear now? You'll report to L'can's wing starting tomorrow. You know where they meet?"

"Yes, sir." G'ny squeaked.

"Ok, dismissed." Following the Weyrleader's instructions, G'ny stumbled down the hall in a daze, as if the _fellis_ hadn't actually worn off.

"Well, you must be so proud of yourself, luring a bronze, and a Wingleader at that," Allika leered as G'ny approached the corridor off of which the junior queenrider's weyr was located. "Don't start getting any funny ideas that you have any more authority than a Wingsecond. A green that thinks she's too good for blues and browns –"

"Enough, Allika," footsteps followed from the direction from which G'ny just came. The voice and footsteps belonged to L'can. Allika glared at them both and retreated into her weyr.

"Th-thank you," G'ny stuttered, unaccustomed to anyone crossing Allika for her. "The meeting?" She asked pointing back down the hallway.

"Can be conducted without me. I wanted to talk to you given the recent turn of events. Walk with me down to get some klah?" G'ny nodded. L'can was tall and lanky, it took a few moments for their strides to adjust without one falling behind or the other pulling ahead. "Our dragons –"

"I'm sorry. I'm just not ready for all that. You must feel cheated of the full experience of your dragon winning a mating flight, and with a female rider no less." G'ny began gushing.

L'can smiled. "Don't worry. It was all still quite enjoyable as a woman of the Lower Caverns was more than obliging. You know, women quite fancy me. Although..." L'can trailed off momentarily, his dark eyes burning into G'ny's. She could certainly see the appeal. "I would certainly encourage you to reconsider. The ecstasy when a dragon and rider pair is intertwined is quite incredible, and with so few women riders it can be difficult to achieve the full, preferred effect."

G'ny had heard rumors that Bremeth had flown one of the junior queens in another Weyr prior to L'can coming to the High Reaches Weyr. In fact, it was when she became the senior queen and she caught the attention of and was flown by the incumbent Weyrleader that L'can made the move. Bremeth was one of the Weyr's largest bronzes and was certainly known to fly in his share of green mating flights, affording L'can all sorts of experiences with riders on the occasion of success and Lower Cavern women in the alternative. _Mmm, it can't be all bad for you. Especially when you share my feelings. _ Saleneth's drowsy encouragement came through. Bremeth must have also had words for L'can as G'ny saw his eyes unfocus for a moment.

"Wingleader, whatever it is you wanted to tell me, do you think it could wait until practice tomorrow? It's been a really long day." G'ny said quickly.

"Of course," L'can replied, his attention back on her. "In fact, part of it was I just wanted to remind you – eastern side of the Bowl, when the sun is just above the rim. Try to come a few minutes early."

Usually a heavy sleeper, G'ny was up early the next morning. She sprang down to the kitchens in hopes of catching up Lawana before both women were overtaken by the flurry of the day's activities. They had become good friends in the just over two Turns G'ny had spent at the Weyr. G'ny wondered what the older woman's take on her new appointment would be. She was also vaguely curious about whether the Headwoman had heard the news yet or not. T'tor had made the decision only yesterday, but word can really spread like wildfire among the Lower Caverns if interesting enough.

"G'ny is that you?" The Headwoman's back was turned checking on a large vat of brewing _klah_. She never missed a beat. The kitchens were her realm and she knew of every individual who entered it.

"Yes Lawana, it's me. Good morning." G'ny chimed.

"Ah, an early rising befitting of a new Wingsecond." So she had heard the news. "And your visit home went well? Unfortunately I had some weyrbrats to shoo yesterday evening when you got back. You found some leftover roast wherry?"

"Yes Lawana, I ate," G'ny smiled and stretched her arms over her head. "It was really nice to be home. Ma seems to be focusing even more on Jenrery in my absence. Dad was pretty excited that he has all the ploughs in working condition, and he is almost finished with an improved way of delivering the seed, just in time for sowing season. So you've heard the news?"

"Heard it? It is practically echoing off every crevice around here. A Weyrling to immediately train for a Wingsecond position, and a green no less? Of course it will take time, but I know you and Saleneth will do just fine. You're both fast learners. And apparently she's a fast flier," Lawana winked.

"You've always known she's a fast flier, what with all the times I come here to brag about beating the boys at our drills. And I've seen you peeking your head out from time to time to watch – especially since you promised you would!" G'ny laughed lightly.

"Yes, but to be caught only by a bronze, and tire out the others, that's something," Lawana said with much more solemnity. "She's no ordinary green, your dragon. And you know Allika will only feel greater jealousy toward you for it. She is dying for her queen to rise. Already flirting with the Wingleaders and bronze Wingseconds, she is."

"Oh believe me, I've already had a taste of it. With all the stress of yesterday, I don't know what I would have done or how much of her berating I would have had to take if L'can hadn't come along."

"L'can came along? Now that I had not heard. Sounds like he's looking out for you."

"Eh, more like had some reminders about training tomorrow, but I was so startled by the news I'm not really sure what he was trying to convey. I do know that I need to head out early though for some instructions."

"Hmm..." The older woman was pensive. "Yes, you better go, child. Oh, and here, take these. With all this talking you've completely forgotten to touch your breakfast!" Lawana shoved a handful of still warm pastries wrapped in a cloth into G'ny's hand. "You've got this, girlie!"

"Thanks, Lawana, see you tonight!"

G'ny emerged into the sunlight from the ground entrance by the kitchens, the warm pastry Lawana had pressed her to take in hand. She then trotted over to the eastern side of the Bowl where L'can and Bremeth already awaited. No one else had yet arrived. Saleneth swooped down gracefully from their weyr.

"Good morning," L'can quipped as he rubbed some oil into Bremeth's hide.

"Good morning, Wingleader," G'ny replied.

"Haha, that's far too many syllables – the whole point of shortening our names is to get rid of those pesky things. They all get mixed up in flight. L'can's just fine." L'can laughed.

"Ok, L'can." G'ny said.

"Ok, so here's how we are going to run it: for the first week, or at least until you think you've got the hang of it, you are going to watch the full wing in formation from the rim of the caldera, got it? You must stay in the air the whole time – until authorized breaks, that is – focus on the angles of Tereth's wings and how the edge of the wing behind him responds. Saleneth, you will be listening in carefully to Bremeth's instructions and relaying them to your rider appropriately. Also listen in on Tereth's commands, I've instructed him to share them with you. Then you'll move to shadowing 50 feet behind the whole wing. Once you get that, then you'll fly directly above T'ten. At that point, Bremeth and I will start watching you to make sure you've got the motions right and quiz you on the hand and dragonspeak signals, and at our discretion you will move into T'ten's spot. Got it?"

"What about T'ten?"

"Once you are ready to take over, he is moving up to T'tor's Wing. So, got it?" L'can repeated. G'ny nodded. "Got it?" He turned to Saleneth. Her eyes whirred a blue-green as she nodded her head. "Good, just in time. Here comes the rest of the Wing."

"All right, lads, listen up. In light of recent events, Saleneth's agility and stamina of primary note, G'ny and Saleneth will be training to become Wingseconds in place of T'ten. No grumbling, I want you to given them a warm welcome, and don't worry, I've given them strict instructions not to get in the way. They will just be observing at first. No big modification to our daily routine, but I wanted to make sure we are all on the same page. Everybody got it?" There were nods and grunts of acknowledgement. "Okay, up and at 'em!" Twenty eight riders mounted their dragons and were airborne almost instantaneously. L'can took a moment longer to meet them at the head of the Wing. Wow, we've got quite the work cut out for us, G'ny thought as she scrambled less than gracefully up onto Saleneth. _We've got this, so long as you learn to mount up properly,_ her dragon snorted back. The first day was exhausting mentally and physically. G'ny was so proud of Saleneth for staying aloft the whole time. G'ny suspected she was not expected to have made it. Staying in one position was especially tiring, but the pair soon thought to glide back and forth to reduce the load. She also supposed the Wingleader gave the group extra breaks when he saw how courageously Saleneth hung in there. Saleneth aside, G'ny's legs ached from the long hours in her riding gear. The pair would sleep well tonight.

Two months in and G'ny was really feeling like she had a handle on this Wingsecond thing. She had stepped in and T'ten had moved up to the Weyrleader's Wing in only a month and a half. This was in sharp contrast to the rumor she heard that some of the riders wondered if she would be ready by the next time Saleneth rose. There were thirteen dragons under her in all – they could pass as a full Wing in a pinch. During Interval, dragon numbers were lower, and given the leadership and training methods available, T'tor had made the decision to try to make fewer fully staffed Wings as opposed to greater numbers of smaller Wings. As such, the Winghalves were still large enough to break off and do drills of their own, which was greatly encouraged for greater versatility when flying.

The Weyr totaled 120 fighting dragons plus a few additional dragons who were not fighting fit. Of those were seven weyrlings from Saleneth's clutch, mostly greens, who had not yet proven themselves beyond carrying practice firestone sacks. Then there were another dozen or so Oldies who had retired out of service, including T'mir, although he stayed active by undertaking weyrling training. Numbers certainly were low, nowhere near the 500 capacity that High Reaches had for Threadfall. Azirith's last clutch was especially small and her clutches came far too infrequently. Some people rumored it may even have been her last. It was a miracle that she laid gold Mirith in this latest clutch. Mirith was anticipated to rise in about another six months. It dawned on G'ny how close High Reaches had been to phasing out its dragon population. She wondered if the Weyrleaders would have ordered a green to stay fertile if a queen had not come along in time. She had heard of the practice vaguely alluded to in one of the records during the Third Pass, but she couldn't recall the details at the moment. At any rate, it was less important during Interval when Holds only saw Weyrs for the tithes they were owed, reduced as they were in these times. Such serious thoughts her new responsibilities led her to have!

The greens under her seemed to especially appreciate one of their own in leadership ranks. Even the behavior of some of the more wily dragons and their riders stayed spot on to encourage her success. The blues and browns accepted her too. Apparently they really did take it to heart when none of them had been able to catch Saleneth. Fortunately, there were no bronzes beneath her, she had no idea how they would respond to her authority.

G'ny seemed to flourish as a leader, as she was very attentive not just how the dragons under her flew, but also how to convey areas of improvement. T'ten had them in really impeccable shape, but his methods had been a little heavy-handed and morale had been low when G'ny first stepped up. There were a lot of sensitive, but capable personalities in her group, and G'ny prided herself on tapping into each one. She had more than made up for T'ten's regression, as the vigor of her crew now rivaled that of the other top Winghalves. At one point, her greatest challenge was slowing her side down to match the pace of the left side of L'can's Wing.

Part of the cohesion must have also been that she and L'can too had grown closer. He had been impressed with how quickly she picked up the cues and how swiftly Saleneth adopted proper technique. He often made excuses to dine with her, sometimes with the presence of the other Wingsecond and other riders, but oftentimes without. The matter of their dragons' bond didn't hurt either. Saleneth would often relay messages from Bremeth before they were announced to the rest of the team by L'can. Questions from the Wingleader such as 'what did we do wrong today' carried no mystery for G'ny with Saleneth and Bremeth's link. The two dragons could be found near each other at nearly all days off, midday breaks, and evening hours. Sometimes one would playfully rub the other's neck with his or her nose or neck, behavior most other dragons did not exhibit towards each other.


	8. Change of Heart

A full five months had passed since Saleneth rose in her maiden mating flight. "You know, Bremeth and I were conferring the other day..." L'can began during one of their dinners together. "It has been a while since Saleneth rose. Greens usually rise three or four times a Turn. At this rate, three flights this year is out of the question. Not that either of us minds, mind you," a hint of blush spread to L'can's cheeks at these last few words.

"Huh, I haven't really been paying attention. I mean, I check her color out daily." G'ny thought out loud.

"I wasn't questioning your attentiveness to your partner." L'can clarified quickly.

"I guess I'm just relieved that it's not something I have to worry about, so I'm not about to question it. Besides, what's it to you? There are other greens, and Cavern women, and..." G'ny trailed off as she saw the look of intensity in L'can's eyes.

"We could. But we haven't," L'can said shortly, rubbing his chin, where a hint of stubble had formed on his usually clean-shaven façade.

"Oh." Oh she thought.

"Well, I'm sure you and Bremeth will be the first to know, he's definitely got an eye on her."

"Yes, yes indeed. Say, just out of, you know, scheduling concerns for the Wing, do you think you might stay this time?" G'ny rolled with L'can's attempts at subtlety.

"No, I'm really looking forward to seeing my family, I'm not sure I'm ready for all, that," G'ny made a face, "And with the Weyrwoman's generous dispensation, I'm going to take the opportunity before her indulgence wears thin. Besides, with Bremeth's hawkish supervision, you should have ample time to call up T'tor or the Wingsecond he replaced. It's only a few days, and it's not like Thread is falling." G'ny said cheerfully.

"Absolutely," L'can smiled, trying to hide his disappointment.

Another two months passed before the event at heart of their conversation became imminent. Bremeth noticed only minutes before G'ny. L'can and G'ny were on a collision course that convened them at the midpoint between their weyrs.

"L'can, you're just the man I was looking for!" G'ny exclaimed. "I think Saleneth will be rising soon. Based on last time's timing, I am thinking of heading out morning after tomorrow. So I was going to swing by to let you know, so that you can make, you know, arrangements." G'ny over-explained as matter of factly as she could muster given the sensitive subject and her suspicions.

"Day after tomorrow, got it. I'll see who I can wrangle" L'can replied with forced alacrity.

The night before her scheduled departure, G'ny packed a small bag of clothes – something she had neglected in the rush of last time. She paid dearly for her lack of foresight, as she had been stuck wearing Holder dresses to the delight of her mother. She also stopped by the kitchens to grab a small ration of nutcake, a specialty of Lawana's that she had longed for in the hours that the Holder meals came inevitably late under her mother's watch. Nothing like the efficiency of a Weyr, G'ny thought. Plus, she wanted the excuse to say goodbye to her friend and confidant who poured them both cups of _klah_ with added sweetener as way of a sendoff. G'ny could feel Saleneth's energy when she awoke the next morning. _Can you check that T'mir and Tolluth are ready? G'ny inquired of her dragon. They are waiting for you. You are sure you want to leave me again?_ It was half an hour before the scheduled departure time, those two sure are eager to please, G'ny thought to herself, _and yes,_ to her dragon. She dressed quickly, grabbed her pack, and hurried down to the courtyard. An unexpected figure lingered in the early morning square where she and T'mir had agreed to meet. It was L'can, up early to see her off. She nodded to him in greeting.

He took her hand suddenly. "Stay," L'can pleaded. "I will _honor_ you to the fullest if Saleneth honors Bremeth again." G'ny quickly closed her mouth, which had fallen open at this request. She shook her head and her hand free, taking T'mir's proffered one up to Tolluth's neck. The three of them – T'mir, Tolluth, and G'ny swiftly departed, leaving L'can behind to grow smaller and smaller as they rose high enough for Tolluth to jump _between_. She was thankful T'mir did not bring the encounter up during their travels.

Back in Radharc Hold, over a feast fitting of its prodigal daughter, Genny described the developments of the past five and a half months with her family. She told them of her growing leadership as a Wingsecond, friendship with Lawana, rivalry with Allika, and interactions with L'can, awkward sendoff and all. Her mother nodded understandingly with each tale she told. After supper, her father pulled her aside.

"I think you should go back. The Weyr is your home now and you must acclimate to its ways. It sounds like you have quite the network there, and a Wingleader, Weyrleader, and a Headwoman who will take good care of you. Don't worry about us or what our Holder mindset will think of you. Of course I want to see you as much as possible and I have loved these two visits in one Turn, but I will always be proud of and support your decisions. Since one of those decisions has been to go to the Weyr, I think you should fully accept the responsibilities that flow from that decision, make the most of it."

That night, G'ny approached T'mir about what her father had said. "Your father is a wise man, and I agree that you should and will accede to all the responsibilities when the time is right. I also think that that time is fast approaching. I am happy to take you back to High Reaches in the morning."

"Thank you, T'mir, I suppose I have to tell Mother." G'ny did not relish the idea. T'mir nodded.

G'ny rose early, uneager to present the news of her departure to her mother. Schism was inevitable. Her mother never wanted her to be a dragonrider, and every reminder that she was one only made tensions worse. Her mother no longer had the control over her which she had long cultivated and longed for. Falling for, or at least becoming entangled with another dragonrider, as was customary when a dragon rises, would only sever Genny's Holder ties even more.

"Ma, I'm headed back to the Weyr."

"What, but... has it happened, already?"

"No, but I did a lot of thinking last night and I think my place is in the Weyr, supporting my dragon when she rises. I hope you can understand."

"Well, I do not. You ought to think about –" Her mother's rage was the last thing G'ny needed right now. She quickly turned on her heel to meet T'mir who was waiting outside. "How dare you young lady, turning your back on me –" A low growl from Tolluth quickly silenced the lesser Hold woman. G'ny vaulted unaided onto Tolluth's neck and cast a quick nod behind her at T'mir. The trio was promptly off.

_You're back._ Saleneth's voice was both confused and excited. _Yes babe, I'll be with you the whole time on this one. _ G'ny could hear Saleneth trill in excitement from her perch on the caldera. _Well then, shall we feed? I'm hungry._

So it's beginning. G'ny thought. She figured the Headwoman would have counsel for her, as she had observed riders while their dragons were in the throes of a flight and knew G'ny's situation well. G'ny descended down to the kitchens just as Saleneth rose up and glided eager with anticipation over to the wildebeest pens. _I bleed them like the queens. _ Saleneth confided with pride. _Well, at least the first two. The third is just so tough to resist._

_You do you, babe, there's no huge constraints since you are not a queen. _ She could feel Saleneth's haughty indignation. _ Of course you are a queen to me, and I will do whatever you would like to support you._

Good, you should want them all to know how special we are.

G'ny found Lawana in her usual spot overseeing the kitchen. "Lawana, Saleneth is rising!"

"My goodness child, what are you doing here? I thought you went home."

"I did. But I think I'm ready to do this right. Can you help me?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Tasla, will you take over? There are fifteen more minutes on the bread loaves and the wherry has been in for an hour and a half. Don't for get to add the extra berries at two hours. With a rising like this, the Weyr is sure to appreciate a good, hearty meal. Come on girl, let't take you to a lower weyr, the riders will find you. She is feeding now?"

"Yes, says she wants to bleed them like queens."

"Well, she has always been a precocious one, your Saleneth. Ok, stay with her, remind her of control and moderation." The pair of women were halfway up the steps to G'ny's weyr. G'ny could taste the warm blood like it was the most delicious treat in the world. She longed to take a solid, chunk of a bite. _No,_ she reminded both of them. _We are doing this like queens. _ Her dragon rumbled with conviction. At last they were at the young woman's weyr and she was able to step out onto the ledge just in time for her to see her dragon launch herself up past the lip of the caldera. "She looks to be in fine form," G'ny could hardly hear the Headwoman over the roar of adrenaline in her ears.

Together they pushed higher, faster, but not so fast as to tire the dragon out too quickly. She was vaguely aware of at least two dozen colored figures rising to the periphery of her vision. _No use checking who they are, it will only slow us down,_ Saleneth explained airily. She took a turn towards the mountain peaks and began weaving in and out. The best part of being a green was this superb agility. She heard a vague thud in the background. A blue or brown must have gotten sloppy in his fatigue and clipped a wing. What folly for chasing her, Saleneth. Indeed, the numbers had begun dwindling, and she was aware of only about a half dozen figures behind her. _ She's here._ A deep voice G'ny did not recognize interrupted the privacy she shared with her dragon. It was quizzical. Another swooping dive around the base of one of the mountains. The bronzes left were too large to pull off the maneuver cleanly. They would have to fall back and wait to guess at which angle she would rise again, giving her an advantage when she emerged – both in terms of direction and speed.

"You're here." The velvety voice of L'can purred in her ear. She felt his touch on her upper arm. Her concentration would not be pulled away from the flight at hand! She could feel Saleneth starting to flag ever so slightly. Together they shot around the peak and arced back out, away from the mountains and over towards the open valleys in which the wildebeests roamed and the trees grew in stands. She thought to coast for a few seconds to regain her breath while the bronzes would be searching for her location. In the moment of reprieve, G'ny was vaguely aware that four other figures had gathered in her weyr.

Suddenly, she was caught off guard. Bremeth was much closer to her left flank than she had calculated any bronze would be. He must have anticipated her exit point accurately and managed to build up momentum in that direction. At her own side, G'ny felt L'can's strong arms gently moving over her shoulder. Bremeth was quickly closing the gap Saleneth had built between them. There was no way the other bronzes could catch up with that kind of lead. Almost, she was almost within reach. Bremeth soared just a little higher, and on his dive down, twirled in to grab Saleneth's forearms with his own. Lawana must have shooed the losers apparent out of the weyr because G'ny was aware only of her and L'can in the space. He guided her over to the bed where his strong body covered hers. Their lips met like the intertwined necks of their dragons. G'ny was overcome by emotions of chaos, calm, lust, and satisfaction all at once. So this was a full on mating flight.

The pungent smell of _klah_ brought G'ny to her senses. She opened her eyes to a shirtless L'can pouring two mugs of the energizing drink. She marveled at the muscles usually obscured by his tunic. He turned toward her, a fur wrapped loosely around his hips. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead and pressed one of the mugs into her hands. G'ny wiggled to sit up, clutching the furs modestly over her naked body. "So was it as bad as you thought it would be? Is it so bad, me being here?" L'can sidled in next to her under the furs, taking a sip of klah from the mug in his one arm and wrapping his other around her. His warm side touching hers was not unpleasant, she decided.

"Mmm," G'ny managed to murmur as she took a sip from her own mug.

"Hungry?" L'can reached over with his long arms to the tray that had been left by the bedside. G'ny's stomach gave an audible growl in response. She really hadn't eaten all day. He set his klah down on the tray and pulled the covered basket over towards them. "Mmm, stewed wherry and fresh bread, looks like this basket did a good job of keeping it nice and warm too."


	9. Queen's Prerogative

G'ny was all but distracted at training the next day, not that it showed in her and Saleneth's flying. On the contrary, they were more in sync than ever with the cues of their Wingleader. The other riders must have known what had passed between them the night before, but mercifully no one said anything. Rather, they too kept to formation stricter than ever.

L'can visited her every night, sometimes with cheerful affection others with intense ardor. G'ny guessed it depended on the trials of the day. He had invited her to share his weyr, a much more spacious abode befitting a Wingleader, but she indicated that would involve passing by the dreaded Allika, whom she preferred to avoid. He understood and met her without fail. One night, he came up with an impetuous idea.

"Have you ever been into the Weyrwoman's quarters?" He asked with intrigue. G'ny's face fell aghast at the thought. "There is a heated bathing pool and Moura is hardly ever around."

"Where does she go?" G'ny inquired abruptly.

"No one is really sure, although I imagine the Weyrleader knows. She stays around just long enough to maintain the appearances of a dutiful Weyrwoman and to keep the dragons mindful of her status, but I've noticed from my weyr's vantage point how frequently she departs," L'can confided his observations in G'ny. Bremeth appeared at the ledge of G'ny's weyr presumably to shuttle them the distance down to the Weyrwoman's ledge. "I've asked Bremeth to try to make contact with her periodically, but she is often distant or out of reach, like now." L'can winked. G'ny was deep in thought as she allowed herself to be guided into L'can's childish plan. L'can led her to the edge of the pool, having deftly removed her garments. So Allika is left to her own devices all day, G'ny thought.

With a sudden push from behind, G'ny found herself propelled into the warm water in front of her. She let out a small shriek of delight. L'can joined her swiftly, ducking under the water to grasp her around the waist and lift her up above him so that her torso was out of the water. "I've told you how beautiful you are, right?" G'ny giggled at his compliment, her now dark, wet hair falling between them. She leaned down to kiss him and he slowly let her back down into the water.

Over at the edge of the pool, the duo found a large cache of sweetsand with which to scrub down. They were chatting quietly as they did so when they heard a small clatter. A small wooden comb popped briefly into view. G'ny ducked all but her eyes under water with a small splash as way of hiding. The intruder must have heard the activity within because a hand quickly stretched out to grab the comb and retreat, but not before G'ny saw a flash of long, blonde hair. Allika, she hissed to herself.

"L'can, why do you think Allika wouldn't make a scene if she saw me here?"

"She may not have seen you, what with that duck you did." L'can smiled as he tousled her hair. "I suspect she has been reprimanded by the Weyrwoman before for overstepping her privileges." _ So the junior and senior weyrwomen were not on the best terms,_ G'ny thought.

_Mirith doesn't really like her either,_ Saleneth always observant when the subject of the queen came up, interposed.

_What are you talking about?_ G'ny prodded her dragon.

_Oh, she and I talk. She finds her rider petulant, negative, and domineering. Besides, she longs to spread her wings and exercise more. Thinks she's getting fat because Allika despises riding her, even encourages her to bulk up like that because Allika has heard that larger queens are more powerful,_ Saleneth revealed.

_The poor thing,_ G'ny thought.

_Mm, thank you,_ was the emphatic reply G'ny heard.

Mirith? She asked.

_Yes?_ Was the even answer.

_Are you speaking to me?_ G'ny was struck by the honor.

_Sure, why wouldn't I? It's a nice distraction from the yelling currently emanating from my rider. _

"Pern to Genny," L'can chorused. "Anything the matter? I didn't realize Saleneth would choose now to be such a conversationalist. Surely she could let you enjoy this bath with me?"

"It's Mirith, actually," G'ny said slowly.

"Mirith?"

"Yeah, she says Allika is currently fuming."

"Since when do you two talk?"

"Since now, I guess? Well, maybe before... I tried to say hi to her at the Hatching ceremony, but I don't know if she heard me, and Saleneth quickly commanded my full attention... and there was also that time after the run-in with R'nan."

"Come to think of it, that day on the Hatching Ground, she sure seemed to take an interest in you, if I recall correctly" L'can pondered.

"You didn't even know me then, how could you remember that?"

"Oh, we bronze riders examined the proceedings of the queen egg very carefully. May have taken a few bets even."

"You were betting on me?" G'ny splashed water in his direction.

"No, not me, but M'tou did. Said he knew you belonged in a Weyr the moment he saw you, and here you are." L'can gave her a boyish smile as he ducked down under the water to rinse the final suds from his dark hair.

Thus the two of them carried on in harmony for the next six months. G'ny was happy. L'can, known to fall into periods of brooding, was happy. The Weyr ran smoothly and the formations flew tightly. Even Allika seemed a little less formidable on some days. Although her contact with Lawana had dwindled a bit - L'can had a penchant for enlisting the help of a Lower Cavern woman to surprise G'ny breakfast in bed - the two women still found their moments to chat in the peaceful moments of the Weyr activities. The most regular of these moments were the days on which L'can's morning was preoccupied with a meeting of the other Wingleaders in the Council Room. G'ny listened with rapt attention as Lawana rattled on about the latest improvements in the Weyr – which children had come down with sniffles, the cyclical stock of fruits and berries, the reliably occasional clumsiness of a cook staff member. G'ny was sitting on a kitchen stool laughing at one of these latest developments when she heard the bugling.

G'ny and Lawana raced out to the Courtyard to see what the commotion was about. Mirith is rising, Saleneth informed G'ny, and which G'ny relayed to Lawana. The older woman's eyes grew wide. "I knew this day would come," she said, shaking her head.

"Shall we go to her?" G'ny asked.

"Well, I suppose with no sign of Azirith around, she might need the support, though you must be more loathe than I to give aid to that one, no?"

"It's the right thing to do," G'ny announced with conviction. The two women quickly ascended the few flights of stairs to the weyrwoman's chamber.

When the two of them arrived, they found the weyr to be empty. _Where would she be?_ G'ny wondered. _ I think Mirith's a little too preoccupied to respond even if I asked her_, Saleneth piped up. G'ny snorted in response. From the vantage afforded by the weyrwoman's chambers, G'ny could see out past the far edge of the caldera, where she saw the a flash of gold leading a first pack of about nine distinctly bronze followers, and second pack of duller browns struggling to tail them.

Nine - that would be the entirety of the Weyr's bronze force. G'ny's heart sank, knowing the Bremeth was out there. She and L'can had talked vaguely about when this day would come. He had said something about trying to be out on a gathering mission when the time came. G'ny knew it was fruitless to expect that such rationality could overpower the base, dragon-fueled instincts when the day came. The spectacle was too far away to make out individual dragons, but a rough overview of the events was possible.

Not much time at all seemed to pass when Mirith suddenly careened to the side, practically colliding with one of her bronze suitors, each of whom were easily keeping pace with her. He dutifully capitalized on the moment, reaching in to join with her. They were at terribly low altitude for such a finale. The other bronzes held back, watching the pair fall, until one dove down towards them. The rest of the spectacle was obscured by the caldera bowl. _What on Pern was that?_ G'ny thought. _ She calls that a maiden mating flight? What a disgrace,_ was Saleneth's impetuous review.

"Um, is it just me or did that strike you as short?" G'ny ventured to the experienced Headwoman. "Like, I know time kind of stands still when you have all those emotions surging through you, but I swear the day just seemed to evaporate when Saleneth was out there."

"Your chase and fall were triple and double the time, respectively. I hope the two didn't crash. That bronze seemed to have control of the situation, but it was a bit of an unexpected development, I would think. That second bronze may have swooped down to assist. We had better go find out if everyone is okay." Lawana reasoned.

Where might they be, if not in the weyrwoman's quarters, pondered G'ny. "Let's go check the Council Room and backtrack from there, since I know that's where L'can and the other bronze riders were last known to be." G'ny suggested.

"Good thinking," Lawana agreed.

The two women hurried down the one flight of stairs to the Weyrleader's level and Council Room. They could not have anticipated what they encountered there. Parchment was strewn about and chairs were upturned. The four Wingleaders, and three of the bronze Wingseconds who had managed to congregate there were all in varying states of dazed disrobement, with tunics hanging meekly - more than one ripped down the front, unfastened belts strewn the corners of the room, and more buttocks were bare than were covered. It was not hard to imagine the preceding events. G'ny scanned the appalling sight for L'can. She found him, to her great horror, slumped in a chair, a naked Allika still undulating slowly on his lap. G'ny thought she was going to puke as she ran from the room. She heard the laughter of a madwoman as she raced through the halls, hot tears boiling in her eyes.

She did this on purpose, G'ny wailed to herself. Despite their attempts at discretion, G'ny and L'can's care for each other had been noticed by Allika's and she now sought to ruin the greenrider over it. Saleneth alighted into their shared weyr and ventured in as far as she could fit her neck to rub her rider comfortingly with her head, her eyes glowing yellow with concern. Lawana, realizing little more could be done in the Council Room and that others could tend to the papers, chairs, and clothes, also soon joined the pair, massaging the young woman's tense and wracking back.

Night had fallen when G'ny was finally able to pick herself up, alone, out of the pool of sorrowful tears she had made on her bed. She was arranging new furs when she was aware of a presence at her inner door. It was L'can.

"I'm sorry," he managed. "She ambushed us at the meeting, 'Have you seen Mirith's color, it's rising time,' she taunted us. I tried to leave, I'm telling you I did. But she blocked the door and had Mirith command our dragons into position for the flight. Then she..." He was practically blubbering now.

"Shhh, I don't want to hear about it."

"I wanted none of her web of misery, especially after all I've vowed to you. I have failed you, dishonored you." L'can sunk to his knees, dark eyes searching G'ny's face. "I don't want to be controlled by her, but with Mirith's at her call, I don't know what I can do. I'm sorry. I don't know what I could do to ever deserve you again."

"This is the way Weyrs are. Now, you should go to her before your absence is noticed." G'ny noted solemnly.

The next evening, G'ny helped Lawana prepare a feast at Allika's insistence. Since her queen's rising, the intolerable woman had become even bossier, actually stepping out from her chambers and barking orders. G'ny could hardly take pride in how smoothly all the preparations for the feast went under her, so low was her mood. In the Great Hall, at the feast she commissioned, Allika stood up to give a speech.

"Some of you may have noticed. Moura and Azirith are always away, and it is unlikely that Azirith will ever rise again. So, with the only actively rising queen of the Weyr, I proclaim myself Weyrwoman, the _dutiful_" she stressed the word curiously, "L'can at my side as Weyrleader!" The reluctantly dubbed Weyrleader hardly raised his eyes as she grasped his hand in the air. A rather lackluster here, here! was shouted and mugs of newly opened wine were raised. From her corner near the Kitchens, G'ny knew that dark times were ahead, L'can's brooding and Allika's overbearing heavy-handedness would certainly set a negative tone. Despite the disaster G'ny foresaw, she could tell this was the moment for which Allika had been waiting for a very long time.

The next morning, Allika whirled into the Kitchens at an hour unusually early for her. G'ny and Lawana's peaceful morning of processing the events of the past day was to be interrupted. The self-appointed Weyrwoman danced around the kitchen, touching everything, taste-testing all the sweetest dishes and returning the spoons to the pots. Gross, G'ny thought. Suddenly the Weyrwoman's seemed to notice G'ny's presence.

"Oh, G'ny, a _word_" the corners of her lips curled up with cruelty. "I have some errands for you, out in Igen. The Weyrwoman there and I were just conversing via our dragons, and she thought the idea of an ambassador from High Reaches would be a lovely idea. You know, they have a most wonderful selection of sweet fruits that you will naturally bring back. Oh, and don't get any thoughts about coming back here when Saleneth rises. In fact, I think that arrangement we worked out earlier, you know, where you take some time at home, is really the best course of action, don't you? Good. You can maybe come back to watch my queen's Hatching. That would be really nice, don't you think – show some support for the cause? Off with you now! I don't want you within my sight in an hour's time." The Weyrwoman spun away, another indigent apparently catching the next wave of her wrath.

Lawana looked on, shocked. "Will you be okay? Oh, girlie, I'm going to miss you!"

"Oh Lawana, I'll miss you too, although I think some time away from this Weyr might do me some good. And I guess I'll be back in about four months for the Hatching. Besides, there will be plenty of errands to run between the two Weyrs, so I'm sure I'll see you."

"You may be right, child. Well, I at least hope to hear from you. Turning a most promising Wingsecond into a runner. Her nerve! Here, let me help you pack." With Saleneth's help, the two women ascended up to G'ny and Saleneth's weyr, a small gleam of excitement in the older woman's eye, as there was not much occasion for her to be adragonback in the Kitchens. G'ny was more than packed – and stocked with Lawana's nutcake – when the prescribed hour was almost up. A few visitors stopped by to send her off. T'mir was as earnest and good-natured as ever. Even T'tor and M'tou stopped by.

"Please know that I've done all that I could for you here, and I have really enjoyed seeing you around." T'tor implored.

"Thank's T'tor, I know it and have really appreciated all of it." G'ny graciously replied.

"When I brought you here, even before you Impressed, I never thought I'd see you leave. Hopefully it has been good for you on the whole?" M'tou said as he pulled the girl into a bear hug. "No matter what Allika says, you do belong in a Weyr, this one, I might even add."

"Aw, you're sweet, M'tou. I've definitely enjoyed my time here, at least when I can avoid Allika, and I wouldn't trade anything for my bond with Saleneth." She affirmed, squeezing him back heartily.

"So long, then," they all chorused to her as G'ny climbed onto the back of Saleneth.

"So long," she waved back to them. She was glad that Saleneth then turned towards the ledge of the weyr so they could not see the tears pooling in her eyes. With a great leap, the two were off. Saleneth had been relayed the coordinates for Igen, and with the image focused firmly in both rider and dragon's mind, the two winked _between_.


	10. Exile Begins

G'ny instructed Saleneth to make a wide loop down to the caldera of the Igen Weyr so they could fully take in their new home for the near foreseeable future. The bright desert sun was blinding, assailing her with even greater ferocity when reflected off of the shallow Weyr lake. When they landed in the Courtyard, a tall woman with dark hair and long, tanned features awaited them with crossed arms.

"G'ny, rider of green Saleneth, reporting from High Reaches Weyr," G'ny announced.

"Goodness me," the woman exclaimed, visibly taken aback. "When Allika said she had an insubordinate green rider who needed to better appreciate the niceties of Weyrs, I knew that description was probably a little hyperbolic, but this? A green female rider. And of such a majestic specimen at that? Interesting coloring." The woman eyed her closely. "Jealousy, wasn't it? She sent you away out of jealousy? I've always seen that vice rearing its ugly head in that woman."

"Ah, probably," G'ny sighed, feeling duty bound not to complain about her Werywoman.

"Well, we can always use an extra hand around here, especially with our reduced numbers. Are you hungry? It's just about lunch time, after which will be the Council meeting, at which I will have to introduce you. Which, silly me, I am Vowna, Weyrwoman of Igen, queenrider of gold Ganebeth. Pleased to have you here." G'ny was relieved at her warm welcome.

"Thank you, I hadn't gotten a chance to touch my breakfast when I was interrupted. I appreciate it." G'ny accepted. The food selection at Igen was a colorful change from the usual spread at High Reaches. Brightly colored fruits were plentifully laid out on the serving table. G'ny was especially enticed by a melon with a hard, outer rind and a soft, orange interior flesh. These delicacies very seldom made their way up to High Reaches. The cold of _between_ often turned the fruit and it was a long trip adragonback. G'ny understood why Allika requested regularly flown supply runs from the area as part of her exile. It would be both fatiguing for G'ny and rewarding for Allika. Still, she doubted that the rest of her Weyr would see much of the treats she brought. The refreshing fruits helped soothe her already parched throat, and G'ny took an extra couple swigs of water for good measure before it was time to head to the Council Chambers.

"Hello," G'ny gave a curt bow. "Please, assign me wherever you see fit. I can fly both formation and reconnaissance, but I can also be put to work in the kitchens. I was a Holder before I was a dragonrider, and a Wingsecond before the change in Weyr leadership." G'ny listed her abilities.

"I've been thinking," Vowna said slowly, "have you tried your hand and weyrwoman duties?"

"No ma'am, but I can read, write, and count well. The necessary skills seem very akin to those I left behind as a Holder."

"And you seem to have taken easily to your other variety of duties. Without the support of a junior weyrwoman, I could use some extra help running this Weyr, what do you say?"

"It would be an honor, Weyrwoman," G'ny replied.

"It's settled then," B'don, the Weyrleader announced. "G'ny we are happy to have you on board. Say, with your experience as a Wingsecond, would you like to observe our strategy today, maybe compare notes about how matters were managed under T'tor? Vowna, you wouldn't mind waiting an extra hour for your new helper to join you, would you?" A boyish glimmer had grown in his eye.

"No, not at all. G'ny, go ahead and meet me one level below in the Records room when you are set free," Vowna instructed.

Now, three days after her initial introduction into the Weyr, G'ny decided it was time to assimilate beyond the charity of the Weyrleaders, just as she had done at High Reaches. At least then they were all in weyrling training together. It would be a little different here, as her peers already had established routines, in as far as she had peers here.

So much for her plan, she thought after a long afternoon during which stayed late into the evening pouring over the hidebound archives of Igen history. She stumbled out from the dim but sufficiently lit Archive Room into the Kitchen just in time for the last remains of supper. Without Lawana looking out for her, there was no pre-made plate carefully curated when her absence was noticed from the main meal time. She modestly loaded up a plate, filled a mug halfway with the mead that always seemed to flow at Igen, and looked dubiously around the Great Hall for comrades with whom she could sit. In the corner, a dark-haired, larger fellow sitting with two other riders caught her eye and beckoned her over.

"Well hello there, newcomer," he bellowed gregariously. "Come, sit with us, how are you liking Igen Weyr?"

"It's been lovely," G'ny replied, "The food is especially fine." She reviewed, holding up a spoonful of a fruity spread she was about to slather on the slice of roast wherry she had procured.

"Good, good, well, I'm A'jan, and these are my mates, B'ran and M'cal. We were just sharing some mead, do you have any? Oh good, you have a mug. No, you know what, let me top you off." A'jan filled her mug to the brim with a bottle waiting at the ready at their table. "You can't have more you have to do tonight, right? That's what I thought. No way Vowna would work you that hard in your first few days here!"

"Ha, thank you," G'ny said raising her mug to them.

"To you, newcomer from High Reaches!" A'jan toasted. His companions indulgently raised their mugs in solidarity. "Let's see now, I am rider of blue Olith. B'ran rides brown Saneth, and M'cal green Malleth. You just let us know if you need anything!" A'jan offered, his chest swelling. B'ran imperceptibly shook his head at his companion's forwardness, while M'cal nodded eagerly.

While A'jan leaned in for a small aside to M'cal, G'ny took a chance with the reserved one of the trio. "Not many women riders here either?" She hazarded casting a bemused expression in B'ran's direction.

"Ha, no. If you'll excuse me, my Wingleader said something about extra drills in the morning, so I really need to get some sleep." B'ran replied as way of excusing himself.

"Of course, nice to meet you B'ran," G'ny called and turned her attention to her remaining companions. "So, A'jan, M'cal, what kinds of drills do you fly, or like flying, over Igen?..."

The lights in the Great Hall were but a mere glow by the time G'ny stumbled up to her appointed quarters. The boys had offered to accompany her to make sure she arrived safely, but she politely declined. Unlike in High Reaches, her room was internal and separated from Saleneth's weyr. She missed the connection with her dragon, especially in such a foreign place.

The next morning, G'ny was gladder than ever for the relaxed mornings the Weyrleaders had afforded her. Usually, she took advantage of the two hours between breakfast to exercise and fly with her dragon if she didn't have an appointment with B'don. Following her late night session with A'jan and M'cal, however, she took the opportunity to finish up her beauty rest. Although she initially stirred at her usual hour, she rolled over after a quick roll call with her dragon. _Saleneth, would you remind me - a hard cap of no more than three cups of mead before bed?_ She could hear the dragon's equivalent of a snicker_. What are you up to this morning? Will you get in our usual laps? I'm sorry I don't think I'm up to joining you today. _ G'ny regretted.

_I'm a little hungry, do you think I could get a few herdbeasts if I do?_

_Sure, B'don said to make yourself at home, maybe go for the smaller, but non-juvenile ones?_

_Okay, got it._

_Come wake me if I'm not up by the time it's 10:00? That gives me what, another three hours of mercy?_

_Fine, and yes, I think so, _Saleneth agreed.

_You're the best._

_Of course I am,_ was the smug reply.


	11. A Third Place to Call Home

A sevenday passed since G'ny's rough morning when B'don gathered as much of a fighting Flight as he could, a mere 52 dragons – less than half of High Reaches, for drills. Each Wingleader rode with approximately 16 dragons behind him. He invited G'ny and Saleneth, as a fighting fit pair, to provide respite for other greens, filling in some of the gaps in the formation throughout the day and try out different positions. For the first set, they were stationed in the right, rear-most flank to help check the uniformity of the Flight's angles. For the next, they were asked to be an auxiliary unit to practice the handoff of firestone, but also to scan the lines of the Flight to make sure everyone was aligned from another angle. Unlike at High Reaches, Igen called a long afternoon break at this time of year. G'ny was a bit surprised, as the pair had lasted throughout the entirety of the morning session and had yet to feel really fatigued. When she commented on the practice, she was quickly informed that the desert heat was oppressive, and would be for the next month or so, so riders used their extended break to hydrate and rest while they waited out the worst of the heat so they would be prepared to round out their drills once the sky showed some mercy.

G'ny had not noticed the heat creep up on her. At A'jan's suggestion, she stepped out into the Bowl to really feel this hallmark of Igen Weyr once the excitement of the morning drills had subsided. The heat was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It had certainly intensified since she had dismounted her partner, especially without the constant rush of air that accompanied flying. Even though she had drank four cups of water with her meal, G'ny could feel her mouth growing dry after just a minute in the sun. She quickly retreated back into the cooling shade of the Weyr and downed another cup. Indeed, the late-midday rest was certainly welcome and well thought out. Once the sun had and begun its descent, the pair was again fresh and ready to go for the late afternoon-evening session, primarily filling in for other greens who needed to rotate out of the shift. It was tiring to say the least, especially with so many new positions to embody, but G'ny enjoyed the challenge and her partner only inspired her rise to it.

She fell into step with A'jan and M'cal as they stowed their riding gear for the day. "Where was that B'ran guy today? Too good to fly in formation?"

"Oh, I think the Weyrleader gave him the day off because he flew reconnaissance yesterday. Why? Do you _like_ him?" A'jan answered and queried.

"Haha, I'm not here to _like_ anyone. I just think I had to fill in his spot a few times." G'ny laughed the inquiry off lightly, dusting a spot off her riding jerkin.

"What, had your fill of men at High Reaches or did the Weyrwoman steal your man before she kicked you out?" G'ny's dark reaction to this comment make A'jan immediately regret his impetuosity. "Oh, I see. Didn't realize it was like that. But that wasn't a flat out no to my question, eh? Eh?" G'ny again laughed the comment off and turned away towards the interior of the Weyr with a wave to the boys. It had been a long day.

_You do, don't you?_ Her dragon's voice surprised G'ny a bit. She hadn't given the matter much thought. _His hair right? That's a thing you humans fancy, right?_ Saleneth had a point, the look of his short but windswept hair, with its hints of sun did strike G'ny as handsome.

_His eyes look kind_. G'ny added.

_Saneth's eyes are kind too. And he is big and strong for a brown._

_What? Are you planning on rising soon, Miss Unpredictable?_

_If I don't tell you, will you not leave me for Radharc? It's much more fun when you share in it._ Her green challenged.

_Fair, my love, fair_, G'ny conceded. Saleneth snorted.

* * *

Saleneth kept her diffidence for a little over a month after G'ny had broached the mating question with her. G'ny noticed Saleneth's change in color and sought the Weyrwoman's counsel during one of their afternoons together. The Weyrwoman announced that a short break and stroll out to the ledge of her weyr to check Saleneth's condition would be in order.

"Why yes, I think you are right. Of course she is more than welcome to rise here. In fact, we would be honored. A dragon's rising is always a cause for celebration here at Igen, we'll take each one we can get, especially with Ganebeth hardly rising anymore. You just let nature run its course. The dragons will take care of the rest. And of course if _you_ would like some extra support, I am always here." G'ny smiled in appreciation.

"You say this, even having heard Allika wanted me back in Radharc for it?"

The Weyrwoman regarded her incredulously and laughed. "Nonsense. Like I said, it's good for morale." She said, effectively ending the conversation.

Vowna had settled G'ny down in a queenrider's weyr for the occasion. Many hopefuls loitered in the antechamber of the weyr when Saleneth took off. A woman partner certainly was an intrigue. Saleneth cast a quick glance behind her at her prospectives. With its small overall size, the pickings were slim at Igen. Eight browns, a solitary bronze, and even a dozen blues thought they would join the fray, fools they were, not knowing how quickly they would be out of the running. It's not like they would have known that she commanded a bronze her last two flights. They, like most of history, underestimated greens - especially her. Despite how she had filled in positions on many an occasion, this Weyr was still unaware of the proficiency with which she flew. They would soon see. She was dismayed not to see her mate of choice at the outset. If she outlasted them all, it would not be the worst occurrence. After all, she did not come to Igen for a weyrmate, but she wouldn't find one objectionable. Even though the absence of Allika's scornful eyes might take some pressure off of the relationship, a mere five months in a place was sure to only end in heartbreak for her rider.

As she looped out towards Keroon Bay, Saleneth felt another presence enter behind her. Here he was, that brown who was the one she could most imagine catching her. She swooped down to the water level, curious who would follow. Once assured of her suitors, she dipped a wingtip down into the water, causing a spray. It hit one blue who was so surprised by the obstacle that he tumbled down into the water below. She headed back over to the eastern shore, ascending gradually. The last of the blues finally gave up trying to keep pace with her, leaving only a handful of browns in the race. The three who had swooped down to give her chase over the water flapped frantically to match her swift ascent. One dragon, Saneth, had already anticipated that she would regain altitude and was already above her, although still trailing by a few dragonlenths. The distance between them closed as she reached higher and higher. Saleneth shifted her head to glance slightly behind her. In her moment of distraction, her vision became filled with Saneth's large head and neck as he clinched the victory.

* * *

"I've missed this," G'ny said comfortably the next morning, having woken up in B'ran's arms. "I didn't see you at first."

"Saneth and I had been out helping the farmers gather and transport redfruit. Saneth insisted we hurry back as soon as we could." B'ran explained. "I'm glad he did," he added, kissing G'ny's temple.

"I thought you didn't like me- you were always quiet or quick to make yourself scarce whenever I was around." G'ny confessed.

"I thought you were beautiful since the moment I saw you land that first day in the Weyr."

"I didn't notice anyone around but Vowna welcoming me!"

"No, but people noticed you. I just don't have the best luck with women, what with my Holder sensibilities, and didn't think you would ever choose me. Didn't want to screw it up or say something stupid." B'ran admitted. G'ny studied his face carefully. He was so gentle and communicative, she could hardly believe a woman could have the nerve to treat him poorly.

"I'm Holderbred too, you know. From Radharc, originally. Weyrlife sure takes some getting used to, that I definitely agree with you about."

"Oh B'ran, breakfast is almost over!" A'jan's cheerful voice taunted in the hall outside the queenrider's weyr, which was connected to the heart of the Lower Caverns.

"Perhaps your weyr would be more discrete?" G'ny suggested. B'ran nodded in approval at the suggestion. G'ny and B'ran looked at each other and giggled. Thus the two made the pact to become weyrmates for the remainder of G'ny's stay at Igen. They then snuggled under the furs for a moment more before making themselves decent and heading down to the Kitchens for the meal of the hour.

* * *

"C'mon, get up, let's go!" B'ran was particularly energetic on their ninth morning together. "I convinced B'don that since you haven't been through Weyrling training with us, someone should get you up to speed on the landmarks and sweep routes of Igen."

"And he wouldn't have agreed that that guide should be you, would he?" G'ny feigned indulgently.

"Well, I am one of the best sweep riders. Saneth is able to cover plenty of ground in one day, and I get on well with the Holders, being that we are cut from the same cloth and all." B'ran's chest swelled with pride. G'ny smiled as she rolled over and began gathering her pack materials. "Have you actually seen the Red Butte?"

"I mean, what dragonrider hasn't? We had a few _between_ drills there, but never stayed for very long. The Seven Spindles are the primary landmark for High Reaches weyrlings." G'ny replied.

"Ah, see this was our primary training spot, especially in the summer months since the plains that surround it are a little cooler than Igen's desert. Boy, did the local farmers hate it when we strayed too far and their herdbeasts caught whiff of our dragons. Made us really good at predicting wind patterns. Thread be seared, we'd be so good at catching the stuff if it ever hit these plains, windstorms and all. Here, Saneth will send Saleneth a more recent image since we go there all the time and it sounds like it has been a while for you."

The Red Butte was about as G'ny remembered it from her drills going _between_, but now, without the time pressure of the drills, she paid even closer attention. It still had its distinctive reddish color and rounded shape up top, but now she took a moment to marvel at the smooth sheen of the rock. Geology had never been her favorite subject, nor was it ever emphasized in either her Holder or Weyrling studies, but she could appreciate the fascination it brought to some. If she recalled correctly, miners had rumored that the Red Butte might have had the potential to become a Weyr with a caldera if certain conditions had been met. She could not remember the details of the lecture, but was glad the monument stood as it did, as it was quite impressive to behold.

"_Oh!_ We never actually got this close" G'ny exclaimed.

"Close, ha! As Weyrlings, we had tons of games - racing around, racing to the top, zig-zagging through some of the ravines that led up there. M'cal once went into a nasty spiral when Malleth clipped her wing on an outcropping. We've got a lot of ground to cover today, so a race around might be pointless, but a straight race to the top could certainly be in order. What do you think?" B'ran challenged. He need only to have looked to the glimmer in her eye to know the answer. "Okay, from the ground, on your mark, get set, go!" He yelled and they were off.

Saleneth had a great start and had edged ahead in the beginning, but somehow, Saneth's wingbeats seemed to be stronger, and more effective, eventually propelling him to the finish line at the apex of the Red Butte faster. G'ny was a bit crestfallen but still exhilarated. _It's okay,_ Saleneth piped in. _Saneth just knows the topography of this place really well - the side of the butte channels the air in certain ways and he has a lot more experience in leveraging those features._ This explanation by her dragon made it easier for G'ny to swallow her pride. The unfolding view below her also helped distract her. Saneth and Saleneth alighted next to each other at the rounded top of the butte. In addition to the sprawling plains that rippled like they were alive in the wind, the crags below her were fascinating. She could see a few spots below her where the mound leveled out and could accommodate a gathering of people and dragons. She wondered what kinds of occasions might bring people together here.

"Once you've had your fill, we've got a lot more to traverse today. We'll head west towards Igen River and follow it up towards Igen Weyr, up to the border with Telgar. We'll deviate a little from that general plan so that we can survey the runner and caravan paths. As you know, we want to keep our eyes peeled for anyone who looks like they are in need of assistance." G'ny nodded at these instructions. The two of them cruised along at a reasonable altitude. Occasionally they would see the small clusters of caravaning traders. They did not see many of the smaller dots that indicated individual runners, although B'ran assured her it was because most runners completed their routes at night, without the glare of the sun. Cotholds were also very numerous in this area as herdbeasts and grains flourished. After about two hours of flying, B'ran signaled that they would descend towards one cothold in particular. G'ny followed his lead as he dismounted, put stowed his riding gear in the stables, and approached the cothold proper.

"B'ran, you're home!" A middle aged woman opened the door, two small children and a large canine spilling out from behind her.

"G'ny, welcome to where I grew up." B'ran announced, reaching down to rub the ear of the canine while the two small children set to clambering on his legs in an attempt to sway him to pick them up. The cothold residents were mostly comprised of B'ran's extended family. While the men were mostly out in the fields throughout the day, his two younger brothers made quick appearances for supplies on occasion, and the women and children gave the two a warm welcome, complete with cool juice and warm pie. Try as she might, G'ny knew there was no way she would remember the names of all of the little ones from this one visit.

"When I'm not in the Weyr or actively on sweep, you can usually find me here. The Weyr is nice and all, but there's nothing quite like family. Growing up running through these plains with the open sky above me makes it feel a little constrained in the Weyr, even though Saneth can take me wherever we want to be at a moment's notice. I know you're only planning for your stay out here to be temporary, so I wanted to show you this part of my life when I had the chance, in case you ever choose to come back and want to share it with me - not that you need to or we're there yet, but... this is just important to me and I thought you should know." Indeed, it was a bit early to learn of all this, and to meet his family, but it all seemed so natural to G'ny. She could see the allure of this bucolic life. It was less bustling than her home Hold, but it had its charms. Everyone seemed so committed to helping each other and making life in this small microcosm work out.


	12. Mourning and Evening

The next few weeks were some of G'ny's most lighthearted as a dragonrider. She could suspend all of the negativity she had left behind in High Reaches, namely those emanating from Allika. Allika, after all, was the one responsible for tearing away L'can. Allika was the one who ordered G'ny about in such a sneering tone that even the most enjoyable tasks seemed like laborious chores. There was none of that here. In fact, she hardly thought of those negative memories. Unlike Moura's neglect before Allika's cruelty, Vowna was kind and instructive in her request for assistance with Weyrwoman duties.

G'ny fell into a routine, working alongside or at the direction of Vowna during the morning and early afternoon when the sun was at its most brutal, in the insulated cool of the Archives Room. G'ny adopted familiarity with how Weyr records were chronicled with great ease, as they bore similarities to the records she had referenced as a Holder. This made it easier to breeze through the mundane portions of the job - cataloging compliance of tithes and levels of supplies - so she could spend more of her time focusing on the more noteworthy records that she assisted in copying over into fresh vellum. There, the richness of dragonfolk, with its notations on clutch sizes and casualties of Threadfall piquing her curiosity with greater intensity than the birth of Holder sons and granary harvest trends.

Igen's history, she learned, varied greatly from the generalized pride in High Reaches that her Weyrling training taught her. Not only was its topography desert, but its status as a Weyr too had been deserted - during the Second Interval. The crew that had returned in the Third Pass seemed motley, comprised of mostly greens and blues, which was not unusual, but the ranks of more leadership-driven bronzes seemed surprisingly lacking compared to typical dragonrider hierarchy. Few notes were taken, although those that were entered reeked of insubordination. G'ny imagined this was natural, since they must have come together from different Weyrs, and the other Weyrs would have been loathe to give up their most productive bronzes. No conclusive explanation remedied her questions, although given the sudden onslaught of Thread, G'ny supposed the Weyrwoman had better things to be keeping track of than the origins of each of her riders. Now, in the Fourth Interval, many generations later, not much had changed. Igen was still one of the smallest Weyrs, with only one, aging queen and few bronzes to lead it forward, but there was an upstart, if not scattered, energy that G'ny appreciated.

In the late afternoon and evenings, after overseeing the execution of the midday meal and a quick nap, G'ny exercised with Saleneth, performing any drill or role B'don requested of the pair. As of late, G'ny had returned to a role quite familiar to her: with one of his Wingleaders, the only brown, out with a strained wing, G'ny often stepped in for whichever Wingsecond was elevated to Wingleader for the day. She harbored a not-so-secret pride when this Wingsecond was B'ran. With so few bronzes available for the upper echelons of command, she knew there was a good possibility B'ran could make it if he so applied himself, especially since he was one of the younger riders and Saneth was one of the larger browns. Still, G'ny knew her partner was balancing his time carefully, loathing to take on so much responsibility that it might interfere with the family to whom he so frequently returned.

There were, of course, aspects G'ny missed about High Reaches. Her mornings with Lawana left her particularly nostalgic, and her mouth watered for her mentor's nutcake. As her mind drifted to thoughts of her mentors, she wondered what T'mir would think about all of the choices and progress she was making at Igen, especially with regard to how he might see her and B'ran overcoming their different allegiances. She also missed her proximity to Radharc. Even though she hadn't taken as much advantage as she could have to go home, it was certainly easier to visit her family, or at least hear updates of her hometown that put her mind at ease, when it was on the Weyr's sweep ride route. It had certainly been a while since she had laughed at C'lin's shenanigans, whether they were related to a sweep ride or not. She wondered how little Midenna and Denalay were doing over in Ogren and regretted having been transferred away from her duty transporting them to Gathers after having just made such a sweet connection with them. There was also something about the crispness of the mountain air for which she longed.

* * *

One morning in the third month of her stay at Igen, G'ny started her day with a fuzziness that made her feel like she had never woken up completely. It wasn't until she had been up for about three hours and was pouring her third cup of _klah_ in an attempt to shake the sleepy feeling that an overwhelming wave of grief washed over her. She immediately focused on her bond with Saleneth and tried to process the messages her dragon was receiving from their High Reaches kin.

A group of at least a dozen riders, maybe two, all older, leaping from the Bowl heights as one, going _between_. G'ny counted the three heartbeat period it took to travel _between_ until she, through Saleneth, should have felt them reemerge. It never came, and her wail of agony joined her dragon's. They were gone. Most were Oldies, but one pair struck her through the images she interpreted: T'mir and Tolluth. The immense sadness seemed to jolt her awake, making her long for the muted feelings of the morning. The Igen dragons keened in solidarity, but none felt the loss so terribly as Saleneth and G'ny. T'mir had been there for every major moment in the Weyr. He found her on Search. He trained her with the Weyrlings. He counseled her on and sheltered her through her mating flight fears. It was through him that she learned how to lead a life in the Weyr. He still seemed so vibrant to her. Less than four years had passed since he had Searched her out in Radharc. It was not enough time to spend together. How could he just leave her like that? It must have been a mistake. What could have possessed them all to do such a thing?

At Vowna's suggestion, G'ny blindly prepared herself for a trip back to her home Weyr. Vowna passed up a small, hand-picked sack of some of the heartier Igen staples that would fare well on the journey _between_. B'ran gave her one last hug before she blinked _between_ to share in the grief of her friends and adopted family back at High Reaches.

She knew she could not stay long before incurring the wrath of the Weyrwoman for her unannounced arrival. Fortunately, the woman was nowhere to be seen when she entered the common areas of the Weyr. Those riders on the lower level riders stumbled around, hardly acknowledging her unexpected presence, so wrapped up was each in his grief. Many had retreated to their weyrs to find solace just in the comfort of their dragons. A hand-wringing Tasla paused as she passed by her, thanked her for coming, and gratefully accepted the sack of provisions. With a hasty gesture towards the kitchens, she quickly turned away, presumably to help make sure everyone remained mildly nourished throughout this difficult period. G'ny wondered how Lawana was faring and what she might know, but realized that first and foremost she needed the company of a fellow dragonrider. The first mildly comforting face she saw was that of T'tor, dazed in the corner with a bottle of quickal in his hand.

"What a strange thought, to likely be the oldest one in the Weyr. This day has come far too quickly." He muttered, half acknowledging G'ny's presence.

"Why...?" G'ny pleaded with him.

"New eggs on the Sands? A new era? No Thread to fight. A feeling of obsolescence? The inability to bear the current state of the Weyr?... Actually, here, T'mir said to give this to you when you returned to the Weyr. Said it might bring some solace." T'tor trailed off. G'ny pulled up a chair and sat beside him in silence, taking a swig of the quickal when it was offered to numb herself as well. She accepted the small, rolled hide from T'tor, although she could not bear to investigate it at first. She merely looked at it dumbly in her hand. Eventually, T'tor dozed off, snoring lightly, the now empty bottle clattering to the floor. At last, G'ny pushed her fingers, clumsy with sorrow to unroll the small scrap. Through tear-blurred eyes, she found a few words that only made the loss more painful.

_Dearest G'ny, Though you may not understand my passing now, in time you may. Know that I am proud of all that you have and all that you will accomplish. Who needs goodbyes when a memory will live on as strongly as I know mine lives in you? From here to _between_, T'mir & Tolluth._

G'ny could not bear the oppressive sadness. As if the withered, faded scrap were a symbol of her own vitality, she had only more anguish than when she arrived. No answers of clarity were to be found here. This was too much. With eggs already on the Sands, she would be back soon enough. For now, she longed for the comfort of B'ran and her less-afflicted friends in Igen. She could still envision her destination clearly, and had had Saleneth take her back to Igen, directing Saleneth straight to B'ran's weyr upon their arrival.

"Back already? I thought you'd stay at least a day," He started. Then he turned serious. "You're drunk! Do you know how dangerous that could have been? What, were you trying to join your Oldies? I could have lost you!" He demanded of her. G'ny could do nothing but sob into his shoulder. He held her tight. He relaxed a little as he reminded himself of one thought: they were here together now. "Shhh, just promise me you'll never do that again." B'ran could feel G'ny nod against him through her shaking.

* * *

"I've got the perfect plan!" B'ran announced. A fortnight had passed, and the initial grief was fading enough that G'ny could smile again with some frequency. "My family used to go out to the Keroon Gathers, where they would face runnerbeasts. The next Gather is not for another three sevendays, but the runnerbeasts will be out in fine form, and I am friendly with many of the local breeders. Let's go check them out! Get an early scoop on some of the contenders to at least have a chance against the Bitrans who will for sure be represented."

With an amused smile, G'ny nodded and went about fastening her riding gear on Saleneth. All set, the pair alighted into the air. Saleneth received the visuals of the destination from Saneth, and they made the quick blink between. The pair of dragon and rider pairs had emerged over a flat, but welcoming landscape. Fields of cut, dried grasses and pens of heardbeasts stretched around decent sized Hold that was dominated by a sheltered corral and network of stables. This was the famed Beastmaster Hold. G'ny and B'ran sent their dragons off downwind, where the runnerbeasts and heardbeasts they would be visiting would not be scared off. As they approached the large corral they passed a network of heardbeast pens. A few came up to investigate the newcomers, sniffing and occasionally licking their open palms when offered. G'ny giggled when their tongues tickled. In the large corral, four trainers had divided the larger area into smaller squares, where they each practiced various riding techniques. G'ny and B'ran watched the individual sessions, pointing out actions of interest, such as when the runnerbeast to their far left tried to buck off its rider.

"Would you like to take a pair out?" An older beasthearder asked of the curious onlookers.

"Wyhall, why yes, we would love to," B'ran answered, shaking the man's hand. The man led them through the stables to two adjoining stalls.

"Here, take these two out, they could use the exercise and I think you'll find them quite well behaved. I would suggest riding out southeast a bit, you can get a view of the coast."

"Thanks, Wyhall."

"Thank _you_, dragonrider, for all of your assistance throughout the Turns." Wyhall replied.

The two steeds, both tall, and built for speed fulfilled Wyhall's praise of them. G'ny had almost forgotten the feel of riding so tethered to the ground, so accustomed she had become to dragonflight. Instead of tensing for steep dives or quick turns, G'ny had to engage her thighs to compensate or the constant jostling. She urged her runnerbeast to the smoother, faster canter to match the speed B'ran had urged his up to. At last, a climb up a small hill afforded them a view of the Nerat Bay over high bluffs. They guided their runners to a conveniently located pond for a drink, then tethered them around a few trees in a small stand nearby to rest. They spread one of the saddle blankets down on the ground where they could have a view of the bay to rest as well. They then proceeded to take out some dried snacks they had brought along. B'ran draped his arm around her shoulders and they watched a flock of wherries hunt fish in the ocean. They laughed and pointed at the creatures' clumsy acrobatics.

After a few moments of a lull in the action, B'ran spoke. "You could always stay here. I mean, do they even appreciate you there at High Reaches? That nasty Weyrwoman stole away your happiness and will lord over you every chance she gets. I will love you. I am here. Stay with me."

"I'll definitely consider it, but I need to see how things will all turn out. Wouldn't you ever consider transferring over to High Reaches?" G'ny could feel the autumn chill sink in a little, the exertion of riding worn off, but found comfort in B'ran's warmth next to her.

"I couldn't bear to see you mistreated there. I would surely get kicked out before I even settled into my weyr if that woman said so much as a word against you. Besides, I am needed here. With so few dragons here, we can't afford to lose anyone. The impact I make here, serving Keroon, this is what a dragonrider lives for. It must not be much longer that I know I have you for, so please, think it over." B'ran proposed.

G'ny smiled at his pride and snuggled her face into his shoulder, just happy to be in the moment. After a while, both a little stiff from sitting, they mounted back up and returned the runnerbeasts to the Beastcrafthall just before sunset. They invited their dragons, who they learned had spent the day sunning themselves and scaring the occasional herdbeast that strayed far enough from the others in its pen for sport, back to their sides. As she mounted up, G'ny cast her eyes nostalgically towards the direction they had traveled earlier that day. She noticed that, with the dusk setting in, it was no longer as brightly illuminated, although she thought she could just barely see the bay as they reached the height at which it was safe to leap _between_.


	13. Miracle Clutch

At last, it was time for her return to High Reaches Weyr. S'ten emerged from _between_ just before the midday meal in Igen for a personal beckoning. G'ny knew the Weyr must have risen only recently. She sensed a change in his usually transparent, slightly reckless demeanor. It was the polished composition she had only heard him afford strangers, such as when he first met the Holders of Pars.

"The eggs have grown quire hard and the Weyrwoman says to bring as much of the fruits as you can in time for the banquet after the imminent Hatching." S'ten relayed.

"Ok, thanks for letting me know. Will you stay for some _klah_? Or, we are just about to set out the midday meal." G'ny invited.

"No, the Weyrwoman needs me back right away. There is so much to plan," S'ten's voice still seemed a little off speaking to his longtime clutchmate. G'ny waved it off as preparation stress for the upcoming ceremony and lingering grief from the passing of the Oldies. S'ten had always been one to help plan large celebrations.

"Ok, I'll head out tomorrow morning and I can't wait to catch up with you in the evening!" G'ny called as S'ten wheeled away with a salute and blinked _between_. G'ny missed her friend and wondered how much had changed at High Reaches in her absence.

G'ny bid her new friends farewell. Although the future was uncertain at this point – it was unknown what the state of the Weyr would be or if Allika would send her back, she knew she would see them again. Especially tough was the sendoff to her weyrmate. The two had become incredibly comfortable with each other and it would be strange to not wake up next to the other each morning. Although they would be only a short trip _between_ away, both riders knew how busy a dragonrider's lifestyle could keep each other and the time difference between the Weyrs did not help.

* * *

Although she started close to dawn, the long, heavily laden journey back to High Reaches culminated only shortly before nightfall, and that was with the aid Red Star traveling at their backs. Saleneth alerted Lawana to their arrival while most riders relaxed in the Dining Hall over the evening meal. Lawana quickly and quietly greeted them and helped ferry supplies into a secluded corner of the supply room. They were almost done when the tall, now round-bellied, figure of Allika came tottering over to where they had been unloading Saleneth in the courtyard.

"What, not going to check these in according to proper protocol?" She leered. "You know, I have need of extra nutrition in my condition," she pressed on, caressing her belly.

"The girl followed all the protocol needed for the good of the Weyr. Everything is properly accounted for in the storeroom for the upcoming feast. In your _condition_, don't you think you should stay out of the cold?" Lawana came to G'ny's defense in one of her sweetest voices, although the underlying tone was unwavering. The pregnant woman scowled and retreated back inside without further interference.

"Hope you don't have to take such authority on all provisions," G'ny laughed.

"Like you wouldn't believe." The Headwoman replied darkly, cutting G'ny's laughter off abruptly. Sensing that the older woman did not have the stamina to fill her in this evening and feeling the strain of her long journey that day, G'ny bade her friend a good night with a long overdue hug. G'ny was on her way out to the courtyard to meet Saleneth to take the pair up to their Weyr when a shadow suddenly stood in her way.

"The speckled greenrider returns. I hear you like brownriders now. Not too good for us after all?" R'nan's sour breath turned her stomach as his large figure blocked her path.

"You really want to try this? You remember what happened last time you tried to ambush me?"

"Who could forget," he acknowledged, rubbing his chin, "But now the Weyrwoman in charge agrees with me, agrees that you should know your place. Besides, ruddy pipsqueak as she is, your green won't fit in here to save you," he reached out inappropriately, at which G'ny reflexively slapped his hand away in a maneuver she that had been ingrained during her hand-to-hand training. He suddenly groaned and fell to his knees, eyes glazing over. She stood for a minute dumbfounded, as she had struck him in the arm, and certainly not hard enough to warrant this response.

G'ny's vision was briefly taken over by Saleneth's: a bleary, grey-eyed brown suddenly cowered below her. She did not roar to wake the rest of the Weyr, fearing the uncertainty that would follow given the queen's predisposition. Instead, all of her telepathic energy was suddenly focused on making this poor dragon, who had clearly been peacefully dozing away prior to the onslaught, submit to her. No noise, no talons, no backup, just the sheer willpower of a protective dragon who loved her rider. G'ny quickly dodged around her assailant and threw her arms around her beautiful Saleneth as she swooped down into the moonlit courtyard. _You'll always be safe as long as I am around_, the dragon reassured the girl, eyes fading from orange to blue. G'ny wondered if a green dragon had ever taken on a brown in this way before. Dragons were not known to break color ranks, and it was usually only queens and bronzes that issued such imposing commands as the one G'ny had just witnessed, and rarely to that intensity. _You did right, my sister,_ Mirith's voice chimed in, _no need for my rider to get involved_. G'ny breathed a sigh of relief at the discretion of the queen dragon, wise beyond her rider's folly. G'ny was glad for the familiarity of her lofty weyr, with its expansive view of the Bowl. It had been largely as she left it. True to her word, Lawana must have arranged for water for her verbena plant, as its foliage was still rigid with vitality.

* * *

The dragons started humming the next day, in the early afternoon. The incident of the night prior seemed to have been overlooked in all of the commotion. The last flourishes of color delivered their guests and retired to sunny ledges. The massive door was almost impassable for humans with the dragons clambering over each other for a view into the Hatching Ground. It all somehow seemed more chaotic than G'ny's Hatching, even though this was now her second run through and the process was no longer entirely novel. Although G'ny would have loved to witness the first Hatching for which she could be a spectator, she knew where she was needed. G'ny headed straight to the Kitchens and mechanically got to work. She and Lawana worked in perfect harmony, with many of the other Lower Cavern women trying their best, although clearly fumbling, to pitch in. Locating requested supplies seemed to be the greatest challenge.

"What on Pern has been going on in my absence?"

"You can tell, we're all out of practice."

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying."

Lawana heaved a heavy sigh. "Since the Weyr now revolves around Allika, things must be done when she says they are to be done, according to how she says they are to be done. Initiative is now frowned upon. She almost took Tasla's head off when M'tou judged the girl's bubbly pies to be better than the ones she butchered the making of – burnt the bottoms, she did. Of course, nothing goes quite right, everything tastes a little off, and food is never evenly cooked around here anymore, except for a private stash of pastries I make after she retires for the evening. Those only go so far in restoring morale. It sure is good to have you back for this, girlie. At least you haven't lost your touch."

G'ny was relieved that guests to her Weyr would not be ashamed of the post-Impression spread. Heardbeasts, dressed by G'ny's experienced hands, were roasted to perfection for the occasion. The various fruits G'ny had managed to haul over from Igen were a special hit; even Allika rose her cup of wine to the toast to G'ny's journey over with it, probably because she took credit for assigning the task. Besides, it was not a stretch of the mind to imagine the feast to be in her honor. G'ny spent much of her evening entertaining the visiting Holders. She had become something of a celebrity among Hold women since she was not unlike them at heart, and the few mothers whose sons had been invited, Impressed and would be residing for the foreseeable future in the Weyr with their new partners sought her out especially. She responding to questions from these mothers and caught up with others from Holds for which she had acted as a messenger before she had left for Igen. Most were here out of courtesy, as opposed to participation, as the Search conducted was by no means extensive. G'ny would still be the only female greenrider she knew, as without the promise of a queen, no girls had been encouraged to stand for this Hatching. Of course, with the Oldies gone, G'ny couldn't help but feel the whole atmosphere to be lacking. By the end of the evening, G'ny was thoroughly exhausted. _Saleneth_, she reached out lazily, _would you accompany me up to our weyr_? After a moment without reply, G'ny panicked. _Saleneth? Saleneth, where are you?! _It was a moment before she received a response_._

_Don't freak out._

_Ok, babe, I'll try. Are you okay?_

_Yes, I think so, come meet me in the Hatching Ground._ Her voice was odd.

The Hatching Ground? G'ny thought. What would Saleneth be doing there? G'ny hadn't been to the area all day, perhaps something important had happened. Had it not been cleaned up yet? Were there still shards and bloody bits to clear? Was a seemingly empty egg missed by the crowd, only to hatch now with a dragonet stumbling around alone? As it was, two of Mirith's fourteen eggs had not hatched, she heard. It was a most disappointing debut. Then G'ny's theories turned darker. Was Saleneth catching cold? G'ny had read about the Dragon Plague in her studies of the Igen records, had heard the Harper tales about the tragic Lorana since she was a child. Please let this not be happening to her.

G'ny could not process the scene before her at first when she arrived on the warm sands. There was Saleneth, reclined on the Hatching Sands. Close to her side were not shells of eggs hatched that day, but newly laid, intact eggs. Saleneth had clutched. Their heavily laden journey was not only with the fruits of Igen, but also those of Saleneth's womb. G'ny, almost fainting, sunk to her knees. _How? And why did you not tell me?_

_I wasn't sure what was going on._

_And you've chewed firestone!_

_Yes, but only that once, and it was tough to swallow, remember? I didn't think it possible, but having ingested so little I must have healed?_

G'ny went over to her partner, hugged her neck, slumped down to lean against her side next to the edge of the eggs, stroking Saleneth's flank and on occasion the leathery exterior of an egg, not believing it was real. _What do we do?_

_I don't know, but they might. Don't worry, I was discrete._

One by one, three individuals appeared at the hallway leading into the Hatching Grounds from the kitchen and rushed in when confronted to the sight before them. First T'tor, then M'tou, then Lawana. A large figure, still golden in the dim light approached from the great doors leading to the Bowl. _I'm here too. I'll do whatever necessary, including keeping this secret from Allika as long as we might need it. I'm also trying to contact Azirith, although she seems particularly hard to reach, _the now familiar voice of Mirith assured her.

Suddenly, Mirith shuffled aside. Azirith had appeared in the courtyard and Moura, looking more vibrant than ever, strode into the Hatching Grounds. G'ny noticed that she could hardly even see the scar that disfigured her arm on bad days.

"I know what we will do." Moura announced confidently, true to her role as Weyrwoman. "It's a shame this Weyr has gotten to the state it's in, and I can't help but feel that part of it has been my own inattention. Gendine of High Reaches, stand strong by this miraculous event. It is a sign that Allika's self-proclaimed reign as Weyrwoman is not as uncontested as she might think. I think Azirith has one more mating flight in her, we'll use that one as the determinant of who the next _queen_ to rise is, and as unpredictable I know Azirith has been in the past," her voice caught and she paused ever so slightly, "I _really_ think that it's coming up. And yes, you heard that right. You and Saleneth are queen and queenrider in your own right. Although I never felt I could tell you before and can find no reference of a precedent for it in the Records, I've wondered if those markings throughout her body are her innate gold coming through. We'll make the announcement tomorrow at the morning meal and turn this all around." Azirith rumbled in agreement behind her.

"For Pern and for the High Reaches!" The gathered group of five proclaimed, each raising a fist in the air.


	14. Adjusting to Advancement

Although Moura had suggested G'ny take one of the junior weyrwoman weyrs, G'ny had fallen asleep nestled between Saleneth's forearms, the sweet, spicy scent of her dragon providing her with comfort in the chaos she found herself. The warmth of the Sands prevented the aches and pains she would have otherwise experienced from sleeping in such a funny position. The conspirators had all arisen early and casually took seats of prominence towards the head of the room. Their dragons tracked down and brought up to speed the other half of the Wingleaders, who had been absent the night before. C'lin plopped down with a mighty thud, his oversized mug of klah almost spilling onto Moura.

"What's with keeping ol' C'lin in the dark about your plan?" He demanded jovially.

"Probably wanted to make my absence less obvious?" L'can joined the end farthest from G'ny with reserve.

"Nah, Saleneth probably just thought it imprudent to interrupt your, erm, accompaniment of that Headwoman from Pars Hold home, you know, the one whose son impressed yesterday?" M'tou derided him.

"She's home indeed, safe and sound, and without complaint." C'lin assured the group to no one's interest in particular. So the morning went on in slightly awkward anticipation of the big announcement the four of them were about to stage. Finally, after almost an hour of stalling, Moura quickly gestured for the table's attention and pointed to the newest arrival to the Dining Hall. Allika had decided to stroll in, nightdress askew, now that the better part of most breakfasts had been consumed. She squinted around for the Weyrleader who had the audacity to make her fetch her own breakfast. She had no sooner spotted and begun homing in on L'can when she became aware of the company with which he sat. Especially as Moura rose to make her move.

"Allika, High Reaches Weyr, good morning," Moura began. The room fell silent.

"Weyrwoman, Moura–" Allika began. Moura waved a hand to silence her.

"The time has come for someone to say something. I have been remiss in allowing you to carry on as you have, wreaking what you have on this Weyr. Your mismanagement has made Azirith feel more youthful than she has in years. That's right, I promise you, by the end of the next fortnight, Azirith will rise. She and I are by far the senior queen pair, and we will take the responsibility that is rightfully ours, and never should have been relinquished."

"Weyrwoman, you are only putting off the inevitable. There is no queen but mine to rise. At her age, Azirith will not be clutching anymore queens. I'm the only chance this Weyr's got at survival!"

"Your entitlement is unbecoming of a Weyrwoman. Fine, we shall wait until Azirith's clutch hatches. Be there a queen, and she and I will step down only once that queen can pose some competition. Even so, there is another queen in this Weyr." Whispered gasps broke out around the room. "You all know of whom I speak. Many a time she commanded you like only a queen could. You have felt it. Her name is on your tongues."

"Saleneth." The admission started quietly at first until it grew in confidence. "Saleneth!" The Weyr cheered.

"That's right. In my restored position, I declare that Saleneth is eligible for the next queen's mating flight, and G'ny is more than qualified to run this Weyr in all the ways you have not."

"She's a green. She's chewed firestone. I watched. How can an infertile, inferior color ever lead this Weyr?" Allika demanded. Bellows could be heard in the Weyrbowl beyond from the insulted dragons.

"Well, that's where you are wrong. By some miracle, Saleneth is now on the Hatching Grounds with seven eggs of her own. Ask your dragon, she knows." The sound of a handful of chairs scraping back could be heard as boots pounded out towards the Hatching Grounds to confirm this news.

"Impossible," the belligerent woman hissed, then her eyes unfocused as she confirmed with Mirith.

"It's true!" The first two riders to return back from the Hatching Sands announced, panting.

"A queen you say? She'll never rise before Mirith. As it is she's stuck on the Sands. And neither will any pipsqueak of an egg!" Allika exploded with bile. More bellowing could be heard outside as the dragons reacted to this upset. There was truth beyond the venom. Even with Saleneth's apparently shorter mating periods, she was certainly at a disadvantage having just laid a clutch. This was a dangerous gamble the Weyrwoman was playing. _Saleneth, give me strength and aid_, G'ny pleaded. _Always_, her companion reassured her. G'ny rose to address the hall.

"Thank you, Weyrwoman, for your faith in me. If you, my Weyr, accept this proposal, I accept the honor. If it comes to pass that Saleneth rises when you officially declare Azirith's last flight and it is meant to be, I will take on the mantle of Weyrwoman to the best of my abilities." She could feel Saleneth impressing her faith in her rider on the other dragons of the Weyr.

"Here, here!" A cry resounded throughout the Hall and loud applause broke out. Riders of all colors came up to G'ny to offer hugs of support. Congratulations and expressions of, "We've missed you, lass," were common. She even heard one rider shout out, "And the food has certainly been better since you've been back already!" G'ny was sure her face must be bright red from all the attention. She wished T'mir could see her in this moment.

* * *

Sure enough, eight days later, Azirith made good on Moura's promise and rose. G'ny went to accompany the love of her life, who was stuck on the Hatching Grounds. She also thought of B'ran and tried to imagine what she would tell him about this turn of events. They both prided duty. They both would never truly abandon the call of the Weyr that gave each their start. _Would you like me to contact Saneth?_ Saleneth offered. _Yes, they both deserve to know_. G'ny assented.

_You know, it's so _boring_, watching these eggs._

_Careful, here they are calling you a queen, but your green is showing. I have read many times over that greens are not as maternal._

_I am what I am. Mirith says she would be happy to take a watch over the eggs now and then. You and I could fly together again. It's only been nine days and my wings itch like crazy to stretch out._

_Well, if she doesn't mind and Allika would let her, I wouldn't mind some flight time with you at all._ G'ny's heart leapt at the idea, really. Just then, the doors from the Bowl entrance opened, allowing in a breeze and the familiar figure of a tall, square-shouldered man ran in.

"B'ran!" G'ny cried out, running to meet him.

"G'ny, why didn't you tell me sooner? You know how I would do anything to be at your side when it matters most!" B'ran demanded of her, concern, pride, and need all shining in his eyes.

"It all has just happened so fast. We hardly knew what was going on! And there has been so much to get back in order since I returned. You should have seen the place!" G'ny blubbered.

"Well, I'm here now." He said, embracing her with his comforting arms. She looked up into his eyes as their lips searched for and met each other. Both were keenly aware of the effects of the ongoing mating flight. Their feet guided them to spots of less unrelenting heat as they stripped off one another's clothes. At the edge of the Hatching Grounds, where the sand was just warm enough to be comfortable, the High Reaches and Igen riders united in the passionate aura that permeated the Weyr.

* * *

That night, the intoxication of the mating flight over, B'ran lay troubled next to G'ny in the junior queenrider's weyr she had made her temporary occupancy. G'ny knew something was wrong. At last he spoke. "Do you think Saleneth will beat Mirith to rise after Azirith steps down?" He asked, propped up on a shoulder, looking deep into her eyes.

"I don't know." G'ny admitted. She had a suspicion where this conversation was going.

"If Saleneth rises here in competition for the senior queen spot, I can't see how we have a future together. There is no way Saneth could compete with any of these High Reaches bronzes. And I couldn't bear the thought of you with another man. Call it my Holder upbringing, which you of all people should understand."

"I do understand. I can't help but hope some miracle will make neither Allika for the sake of the Weyr, nor me for the sake of us, the Weyrwoman."

"Miracle? And what might that look like?" B'ran asked miserably.

"I guess... Moura would have to hold onto her title until another queen is ready to fly."

"And with that not yet apparent, it's a long shot. I sure hope we can make it that long."

G'ny sat up and kissed B'ran's troubled brow. "I sure hope so too. But I also think if it came down to it, Saneth _could_ be a serious contender in such a flight." B'ran shifted to kiss her back at this issue he thought moot. She pulled away after a bit to add, "And with your compassion and initiative, I think you would make a great Weyrleader," before snuggling down into the covers, tickling him lightly to elicit a small laugh that preempted his protest.

* * *

M'tou's Calleth was the presumptive victor of the contest of the before, making M'tou the Weyrleader apparent. Despite the many years of T'tor's companionship with Moura, the events of late had precipitated quite a shakeup in Weyr leadership. Many were excited for M'tou's ascension, as rumors of his fit for the position had been flying since before G'ny had even arrived at the Weyr. B'ran had taken his leave in the early hours of the morning so as to get back a full day at Igen, so G'ny continued the morning in solitude, thoughtfully sipping _klah_ in her new weyr, relieved that order had been restored to her home. With her queen's return flight so imminent, Moura stepped up her command of the Weyr. Right away, Moura had insisted that G'ny settle into a queenriders' weyr down on one of the Lower Levels not only so that she could have proximate living quarters to Saleneth while she was on the Sands, but also because, as Moura emphasized, they were fitting for a rider of her status. Moura had also slipped her some golden thread and instructed her to redo her riding knots. Partial to the green that had always adorned her shoulder, G'ny kept a few strands of the color in the knot out of nostalgia.

G'ny was just finishing the last swing of her mug when she almost choked in surprise. Saleneth had alighted onto the ledge of the weyr. _Good morning_, she mentally greeted with an audible trill. _What are you doing here? You have eggs to guard! _ G'ny spluttered in response. _Mirith's got them covered_, was the response. _Indeed. Tending eggs is something I actually do well, go enjoy yourselves_, cut in Mirith's now familiar voice. Saleneth butted G'ny gently with her head to spur her to action. With a laugh, G'ny climbed up to her spot on Saleneth's back without even putting on a riding harness. It would just be the two of them, with G'ny clinging tightly with her thighs and to the neck ridge in which she could find some purchase. T'mir would be so upset right now at her recklessness.

Saleneth took the ascent cautiously, knowing well the precarious position of her rider. The two glided back and forth from one end of the Bowl to another. A few dragons eyed them curiously as they passed overhead. Then they extended their path outward beyond the circumference of the Bowl. G'ny deeply breathed in the fresh air, tinged with the smell of the treetops below, and savored the feeling of the wind in her hair. Her joy could hardly match that of Saleneth, whose muscles she could feel stretch satisfactorily beneath and within her. This was the state she was meant to be in. All of her worries about the future – about B'ran, about the possibility of becoming Weyrwoman, of Allika – everything, melted away. G'ny let her mind clear into a meditative state so that she was just aware of her dragon and her surroundings. Even her own body was irrelevant to the experience. This flight was exactly what they both needed in that moment.

G'ny and Saleneth checked in on the Hatching Sands when they returned to the Weyr. Saleneth's reluctance to be anchored down again was palatable. G'ny went up to Mirith and rubbed her eye ridges in thanks. The large golden head turned toward her, eyes whirring green with content. _I envy the two of you, you know. The way you fly together so happily. I feel like I can hardly get off the ground, and Allika is basically afraid of heights. It makes me happy to be here, doing something useful. That's what I meant when I said this is something I actually do well_, the queen confided in her. _Oh_, G'ny replied, rather speechless, _well, we certainly appreciate it, thank you_. Mirith began again, _you know, it's a bit early to tell, but I think one of these, this one here, might be a queen egg._ Saleneth edged in to give the indicated egg as sniff. She rumbled in approval and Mirith joined in with her.

From that morning on, the three of them established a routine in which Mirith spent most of the time with the eggs on the Sands, leaving G'ny and Saleneth to more routine tasks throughout and beyond the Weyr. G'ny couldn't fathom what Allika might be up to, although she had a vague idea the woman was leveraging her time with child to be waited upon. With this increased interaction, G'ny took a special interest in Mirith. The golden dragon was far larger than Saleneth. In proper form, she probably could be significantly more prolific than she had previously demonstrated. G'ny made up her mind. During some of Saleneth's time on the Sands, G'ny would take Mirith out. She needed to exercise more, to fly and stretch her wings. That had to be a factor in her small clutch size. It wasn't until Mirith had reached out about G'ny and Saleneth flying together that G'ny had given the queen's workout routine much thought. It was strange, flying with and directing a dragon who was not truly hers, but upon reflection she realized that she and Mirith had always been open to a bond of sorts with each other. Moura approved of this plan when G'ny ran it by her and, of course, G'ny and Saleneth stayed close to the Weyr as the time for the eggs to hatch approached.

Moura was warmer towards G'ny than she had ever been. Moura would often schedule her to shadow her in checking over ledgers and making decisions about how to supply the Weyr. Sometimes Moura would quiz her in a way that made it seem like they were both learning the proper way to run the Weyr. Moura was completely open-minded to suggestions G'ny posed. G'ny appreciated her Weyrwoman's collaborative approach. It was as if she was making up for the time she had sunk into Allika to the exclusion of G'ny. With the manifest support of the Weyr for G'ny to be a Weyrwoman candidate, she supposed Moura was now trying to groom her, or at least catch her up to speed for the role.


	15. Something Fishy

Moura's approval of the arrangement with Mirith may have been more out of necessity than propriety. She bustled around with an energy that caused her to double check everything. With the extra devoted care, tasks seemed to take longer than usual, so she gratefully relied on G'ny's careful observations throughout her time at at the Weyr. G'ny reassured her on multiple occasions of the way routine assignments were done. They were simple things, such as the rotation for properly battening down the shutters for impending snowfall, which was more and more frequent as the cold winter days set in. G'ny supposed Moura was making up for the inattention that had led to Allika's ascension. In the little over a fortnight since Moura had sanctioned the improvised custody of the eggs, she must have built up faith in the operation, as she approached G'ny with an unexpected request.

"I know the timing of this is not ideal with eggs on the Sands, but G'ny, with Mirith able to tend the eggs, do you think you could accompany the tithe from Tillek? Tillek was one of the Holds on M'tou's route, but I'm afraid he is too busy with his new Weyrleader duties. As one of our largest and most important Holds, it is best that the expedition be led by a rider in whom the Weyrleader trusts, and you journeyed to Tillek Gathers as a child, did you not?"

"I did, sure thing. What are the details?" G'ny responded dutifully, honored to hear the Weyrwoman's trust in her reaffirmed. It was important to ward off resentment with personal relationships and added services to uphold this time-honored relationship in such peaceful times. Although the Weyrs reduced their strain on the Holders by tending small farming and livestock operations, the rocky, arid Weyr real estate was limited in the resources it could provide. Besides, when Thread finally deigned to fall, the Holders needed to be in the practice of providing supplies. High Reaches prided itself on still providing value to the Holds even in the absence of Thread. Although watch-whers and harper drums provided effective security and communication, many Lord Holders happily accepted the more immediate and versatile assurance of a posted dragonrider. As such, High Reaches would rotate their dragonriders to the Holds, usually in three day shifts in the ongoing crusade for hearts and minds. Of course, more riders would be sent when it came time to collect large tithe loads.

"You'll be headed out midday tomorrow. Lawana will have a tithe list for you to pick up on your way out - mostly barreled fish from Tillek, you know. Tillek usually prides itself on hosting riders overnight and having everything packed for an early departure the next morning. Brownriders R'nan and T'mosen are set to accompany you. Given your history with R'nan, do you think this arrangement will work?"

"I think we reached a mutual understanding, last we left it. Saleneth has proven herself more than capable of handling Branth." G'ny assessed. _He's a good dragon, just needs a little guidance sometimes_, Saleneth piped in.

"I'm glad to hear it. T'mosen will be good buffer between the two of you - very efficient and level-headed. He is one of our primary dragonriders posted at Tillek and has good relations with many of the people there. The two of them have done this route many times before, so imagine it will run smoothly with T'mosen taking lead." Moura volunteered as if to answer to G'ny's silent question. She did not know much about the other brownrider at all, although she could recognize his tall, square-shouldered figure from when she had observed it cutting across the Bowl before. He was a terse, experienced Wingsecond under M'tou's wing. His demeanor quickly put G'ny at ease when he greeted the trio in the courtyard just after the midday meal the next day.

"G'ny, good to finally be working with you," T'mosen, grasping her forearm and initiating the traditional dragonrider greeting firmly. R'nan, meanwhile, kept his eyes cast downward, not daring to make eye contact with G'ny. "Alright, let's mount up. Twiseth will send coordinates presently."

* * *

The sea breeze was refreshing as the trio emerged over the water, the Tillek coastline extending in front of them, the point that sheltered the Tillek harbor to the west framing the right hand side of their view. Although it was not high season, there was still plenty of activity around the loading docks. Still other boats were moored off the shore a ways, some presumably waiting their turn to load and unload, while others resided there on the regular. Many flew the dark blue reversed lattice flag that marked them as local fisherman, but G'ny also saw the bright red chevrons from Southern Boll, likely bringing in woven textiles and flashes of orange from Ista, the treasures of each ship's hold G'ny could only speculate. The trio kept in tight formation as they glided easily to a sandy stretch central to the port. A crowd quickly gathered around them, from which a wiry man with a jet black beard, eyebrows to match, and a traditional sun hat with a blue and white checkered band worn by Tillek locals strode forward.

"Welcome to Tillek, we've been expecting you. T'mosen, R'nan, good to see you," the man said, grasping each brownrider's forearm in turn. "And who do we have here? Surely High Reaches has not troubled its Weyrwoman with a routine tithe trip? Me, I am Jonderan, eldest son of Lord Holder Olleran, who sends his regards, and awaits you in the Hold proper. My father is just not up to coming out himself these days, unfortunately." Jonderan introduced himself, with a wry smile as he mentioned his father.

"G'ny, rider of green, um… gold…, goldish-green Saleneth, formerly of Radharc - I used to come here as a child for Gathers," G'ny introduced herself, also extending an arm, reverting to the titles she had always known, while fingering the knots on her shoulder uncertainly. Saleneth might be queen material, but was she really a gold? If so, it was a title to which G'ny certainly was not accustomed.

"Ah, greenish-goldrider, welcome. I wasn't sure, as in this bright sunlight, I would swear those are rays golden like the sun reflecting off her." Jonderan said to her, a playful glint in his eye. "Please, follow me to inspect the goods you will be taking back to your Weyr."

The entourage headed eastward across the wharf from the sandy landing on which they had alighted. Without the threat of Thread, the area was a lively center of activity, a crowning gem of the Fishercrafthall, where fishcatchers, seamen, and shipwrights alike mingled. It was a scenic stroll along the waterfront to which Jonderan treated his guests. When her family had come for Gathers, G'ny rarely got to venture to this side of the Hold, as her family, coming from Radharc, approached from the southeast. G'ny was assaulted by the overpowering smell of fish that wafted throughout the space. Although G'ny could feel her nose flaring ever so slightly in response, she managed to keep her reactions subtle, unlike R'nan next to her, whose nose wrinkled, contorting his face to an even uglier shape. The preparation of fish of all sizes and colors played out under canvas tents that were set back only a few dragonslengths back from the wharf. The largest operations strung up enormous catches on hooks suspended from long skybroom beams, while craftsmen bearing journeyman's knots and above worked at them with long, thin knives. Apprentice knots were much more common at the tables serving the smaller specimens.

They continued into the Hold proper, through a side passageway into the Hold stores. G'ny was grateful that her nose had deadened to the constant assault when they reached the appropriate cavern, as she was sure the smell must linger around the contents of the room. Stacked along the walls and in great aisles was where barrels packed with prepared fish were stored.

"One flat of dried, two flats smoked, two barrels pickled, and three barrels salted for this round, correct?" Jonderan suggested. A quick look down at the ledger G'ny had brought confirmed this order, and she nodded affirmatively. Jonderan quickly dispatched his men to transport the indicated quantities of fish.

"Of course, as guests, you will be feasting on freshly grilled fish tonight. Come, did you _catch_ a glimpse of the _catch_ we were planning to serve tonight?" Jonderan called over his shoulder with excitement as the group returned the way they came, following Jonderan back out into the sunlight to a tent set away from the rest. "Here we are, caught fresh this morning, Masterfisher Callan, show us what you've caught!"

A weathered man with white hair stood next to a rounded fish his same height. He had already set to work on it with one of those long, thin knives, so G'ny had a revealing view of both the interior and exterior of the fish. The man gestured obligingly. The scales on the outside alternated in broad stripes of tan and dark gray, while the fleshy interior was a rich orangey-pink. The dragonriders paused to marvel appreciatively.

"While the final preparations are made on that fish, let's take a hike up to your old stomping grounds, the Gather Meadow!" Jonderan suggested, winking at G'ny. The man's energy was admirable as he paraded his guests around the Hold and its environs. They ascended a broad pathway that snaked around the mountain that housed the Hold, up to a large steppe that had been carved into the exterior face. From this elevation, G'ny had a vantage of the ocean that disappeared into the horizon. The large clearing was mostly empty without the bustle of an ongoing Gather, but there were distinctive patches worn into the grass where stalls had been set up and footpaths established. From these footprints, her imagination recreated the Gather scenes that were so positively ingrained in her memory. G'ny cast a covert, friendly smile at R'nan's not-so-subtle gulping of the fresh air of the Meadow, also relieved to be out in the breeze again. He smiled back sheepishly at her. Perhaps the two could have a friendship of sorts.

* * *

The meal was every bit delightful as Jonderan had promised. The savory yellow-stripe was grilled to perfection and paired beautifully with roasted allium, sweet potato that had been cubed, tossed with an herb glaze, and also roasted, as well as a choice of Tillek's famous wines. Although G'ny generally preferred the heartiness of the Tillek reds, especially cultivated for their bold taste back at the Weyr, she preferred the way the lighter, white wine paired with this particular meal. Jonderan's assumption of his father's hosting duties made sense when G'ny observed the older man. Lord Holder Olleran was all but deaf in his left ear and the cloudiness of his corneas indicated his sight couldn't be much better. He conducted himself with dignity, graciously accepting the aid of his family and holders. An aura of relaxed contentedness settled over the dining hall long before the wizened patriarch retired for the night.

"You know, M'tou has spoken highly of a holder-born Gendine, that's you, isn't it? I didn't want to seem presumptuous when we first met." Jonderan had stretched out to drape his arm behind G'ny's chair, next to him. "I am glad to finally meet you, you certainly do not disappoint. So tell me about life in the Weyr, what's your favorite part?" Jonderan leaned in to listen intently. G'ny humored Jonderan for most of the meal, knowing the importance of Weyr-Hold relations.

"I think it would be best for us dragonriders to retire to our quarters. Would one of your women drudges be around to show G'ny to her quarters?" R'nan inquired helpfully, noisily clattering his chair backwards from two spots down, turning towards G'ny and Jonderan, and clearing his throat. It was indeed getting late. T'mosen had already taken his leave. R'nan courteously helped G'ny to her feet from her chair. "Careful with that one, chivalrous and all, he is always looking for a body to share his bed since his second wife died half a Turn back. Given our history and your imminent position in the Weyr, I am going to assume you have no intention of role playing Tillek's future Lady Holder tonight?" R'nan debriefed her under his breath as he leaned in to take her hand. G'ny looked up at him gratefully for his assessment and handling of the situation. Jonderan beckoned and a woman came forward.

"Canna can show each of you to your rooms,_ if that's_ what you would like," Jonderan eyeing G'ny hopefully under R'nan's watchful eye.

"Oh, yes, thank you so much for all of your hospitality, goodnight Jonderan," G'ny replied cheerfully.

"Consider this a stab at redemption; I know I have a lot to make up to you." R'nan added quietly before they parted ways.

* * *

G'ny could still smell the fish upon her when she landed back at the Weyr. Her barrels stowed away in the cellars, she headed to the bathing pool to thoroughly scrub down and suggested that Saleneth do the same in the lake. Their morning had gone about as expected - all of the tithe had been packed up without incident. Their breakfast of toasted bread and a bland fish stew sat satisfyingly in G'ny's stomach long through the afternoon. It was about mid-afternoon when she finally felt her stomach tugging at her again, so she wandered into the kitchen to check into Lawana's stock of pastries.

"Oh yes, over there - the most recent batch of bubbly pies has been done for about an hour." Lawana called over her shoulder to the silent inquiry of G'ny's entry. G'ny wasn't sure the woman had even seen her. "I've seen how a proper meal by those fishmongers keep you riders full through the midday meal til right about now. Nothing like a sweet pie to counter the savory dishes they serve," Lawana explained absentmindedly. A dozen individual-sized bubbly pies stood on the cooling racks next to the great oven. Sure enough, T'mosen had sauntered in behind G'ny and was reaching for a perfect-temperatured bubbly pie. They seemed to be a hit to those who were privy to their existence, as yet another figure entered the kitchen - the Weyrwoman herself had cycled in, raising her brows in acknowledgment, and quickly returning to the duties from which she had just excused herself.


	16. New Blood (Updated)

_Edited to include the role of B'ran, S'ten and J'massey at the Hatching of Saleneth's eggs and breaking the chapter a bit earlier_

* * *

The excursion to Tillek having broken up the building anticipation G'ny felt about the eggs, the remaining half of Saleneth's eggs' five weeks passed quickly. Soon, the Hatching Sands were once more filled with the humming of dragons and cheering spectators from Weyr and Hold alike. Although it was a smaller procession of Candidates than usual, the possibility of a queen and the irregularity of a green-speckled mother had everyone excited. Indeed, the small gaggle of girls that had been Searched had not gathered in vain. Out of the egg Mirith had first noted came a dainty, pale yellow snout – a newborn queen, with none of her mother's characteristic verdant streaks. The Candidate she rushed to was a dark haired young woman named Nallene, one of the older girls of the group. Like G'ny, she was Holder bred, from the heavily-populated and esteemed High Reaches Hold. As such, she was sensible and as cosmopolitan as a person on Pern could be.

Nallene announced, with a grace and clarity that commanded the attention of the entire gathering, that the newest queen was called Babreth. There was something in her that inspired a particular calming confidence in G'ny. Perhaps after suffering the immaturity of Allika, it was relief that a young queen rider could rise to the responsibility of her rank that flooded G'ny. Competent leadership of the Weyr would not rest solely on her shoulders. Besides, with this batch, it seemed like quality would indeed rule out over quantity. Like Nallene, the boys who Impressed were also Holder bred, and from families respected in their respective communities. More than ever, G'ny was involved with engaging the new riders and their families. At each table, she found two proud, smiling parents and often a supportive sibling or two. Unsurprising at such a ceremonial event, she found Tillek's acting Lord Holder, Jonderan, in attendance. He caught G'ny's eye and stood up to greet her, pulling her into a warm embrace. Then he beckoned to a young man next to him.

"My youngest brother, now bluerider L'leran," Jonderan announced with pride. G'ny peeked over to see a small blue bundle curled up on the lap of the youthful man next to him. "I know you'll take good care of him. And Tillek will certainly be sending its fair share so that he won't forget the taste of home! You never know, I might need to venture up here more. Those were your Saleneth's eggs on the Sands, you were just in Tillek! At any rate, I appreciated making your acquaintance when I did." G'ny smiled graciously at Jonderan's excitement. Indeed, dragonrider ties to prominent Holder families was good for the cohesion of the two societies. G'ny wondered if Moura had sent her on the journey with a suspicion of the impending connection. After all, M'tou was experienced in Searches, was well acquainted with Tillek, and was in privity with the Weyrwoman.

It was a small, but joyous occasion. G'ny was still too in awe that her dragon had laid eggs, and a queen one at that, to be bothered that it was only seven new dragonriders that joined the Weyr that day. Her joy was compounded by B'ran having come to share the moment with her. G'ny knew the Hatching would inspire mixed feelings for him. He and Saneth were an integral part to the eggs being on the Sands, yet they were the Sands of a Weyr foreign to them. B'ran was loyal to Igen, yet while G'ny was instated as a rider at High Reaches and there were bronzes at Igen, B'ran knew this might be the largest personal stake he would have in a Hatching. Still, his care for G'ny and desire to support her outweighed his disappointment. Unlike the previous Hatching in the Weyr for which G'ny had been present, in which she was hidden away behind a curtain of drudgery, this was her Hatching to shine. The fanfare of being at the center of it all was entirely foreign to G'ny, as she had not been raised with the imperative that her role in the Weyr was to propagate the draconic species. Many of the visitors who were new to the Weyr shared in her wonder at the situation. M'tou was particularly adept at deflecting the inquiries of prying Holders to keep G'ny's spirits unburdened by unimportant questions.

B'ran's presence also kept her from feeling overwhelmed. Much as he detested the publicity of it all, his affable nature and background allowed him to field questions from visiting Holders and curious dragonriders alike. S'ten and J'massey were particularly hospitable of him, although G'ny suspected they were also using the time to understand the love-interest of their friend. Although she did not openly flaunt his importance in her life, her circle of friends within the Weyr often peppered her to update them on the welfare of each of them individually and as a couple. Relationships of such singular devotion were rare in a Weyr, and in some ways misunderstood, but all lifestyles were welcome. G'ny knew there was another circle within the Weyr, mostly among the brown and blue riders, who knew of, but disbelieved in his existence, thinking G'ny used him as a pretext for dodging their romantic advances. G'ny could not help but recognize this added value of being in a relationship.

Of course, such disappointment did not apply to S'ten and J'massey. Although she had suspected them of some jealousy when she had initially returned from Igen over the happiness she had found there, they had since finally petitioned for adjoining Weyrs, and seemed the happier for it. Even with all parties content, G'ny often missed the dynamic she first had with her Weyrling friends - adjusting to Weyr life, gossiping about their fellow Weyrlings, and comparing notes on the latest, often comical, developments of their dragon counterparts. Now, G'ny's duties were so different than S'ten and J'massey's that their schedules hardly overlapped. This Hatching was probably the most she had seen either of them in months, and yet even this time was so fragmented with all of the commotion going on. As it was, G'ny sometimes envied that they could see each on any day one of them was not stationed away from the Weyr, whereas B'ran lived in an entirely different Weyr. At least tonight, everyone would be able to enjoy their partners. In a lull moment in which the three of them found themselves together G'ny proposed a toast to friendship with them, taking a long swing of her wine in realization of the changed dynamic from when they were first Weyrlings.

* * *

Enough time had passed since Saleneth's Hatching that Lawana had properly organized, accounted for, and replenished any supplies her staff would need and the rest of the Weyr had settled into a normal routine after all the excitement, but it had been recent enough that the patterns of how to host were still easy to recall. Soon enough, it was Azirith's turn to be the matriarch upon the Sands. Twenty three new dragonets were hers to proudly bring into the world. This was the High Reaches' largest clutch since before G'ny had been inducted into Weyrlife. In fact, the past six months had heralded the largest influx of new dragons that G'ny had ever seen. G'ny was happy to see the reinvigoration of the Weyr. With all the new blood and ordained riders, the sting of the Oldies' loss that had pervaded they Weyr was finally fading away. Although it contained no queen, Azirith's clutch was heavily stacked, with three bronzes and six browns, two of which were already quite large coming out of their shells. Not that the Weyr was in dire need of another queen. Despite the small clutch sizes, there were now effectively three rising queens, with a fourth on the way. With regular flights and Hatchings, the Weyr was sure to remain in good spirits. G'ny was heartened that little Babreth would have her share of doting bronzes. With these new recruits, the Weyr would need a seasoned Weyrlingmaster. No one was as qualified as the recently retired Weyrleader, T'tor. He was absolutely the most experienced dragonrider in the Weyr. The role gave new purpose which obscured his operative demotion and brought a smile to his face every day.

It was comforting to again hear commotion from the area of the Weyrling barracks. It went from the most to the least likely place to unexpectedly encounter a tunnelsnake. Even if G'ny has not known L'leran for having been singled out by his older brother, she, and the rest of the Weyr quickly became aware of his persona. Although he rode a blue, a color less known for being bold and commanding attention, the small size of the class meant each rider stood out in his own way. L'leran's way was to be both the biggest clown and advocate for his fellow Weyrlings. He was the first to crack a joke as well as the first to notice and settle misunderstandings on the rare occasion they arose. Largely because of his presence and their small cohort number, the elder batch of Weyrlings was a very well-behaved and close group. G'ny also wondered if having a younger class so closely below them added a pressure to be role models and not be upstaged by their younger counterparts, as she sensed an elevated maturity among the group as well. The added complexity of Weyrling classes at two different stages of development led T'tor to enlist the help of the two senior wing leaders. While T'tor would primarily plan the lessons and alternate mornings and afternoons with each class, L'can and C'lin would alternate the days on which they supplemented T'tor's instruction. As always, they were balances to each other: where C'lin was bold, risky, and drilled on repetition, L'can was patient and supportive of his charges, honing in on technique.

The usual Weyrling shenanigans brought rounds of laughter and smiles to the Great Hall - a gangling gait that results in a stubbed nose, a overly odorous stall to muck, an intended shoulder knot or riding strap that bore little resemblance to the deliverable envisioned, instead resulting in a tangled mess. One young lad failed to exercise enough care in handling a numbweed vat, turning an otherwise healthy Weyrling into a temporary invalid when he spilled it all along his left side, making walking difficult for a period of hours. They were all mishaps that time and experience would erase, none which would permanently damage a Weyrling, save for a storied scar here and there. The Weyrlings very smartly soon committed to memory T'tor's distinct _klah_ preferences, down to additional strength at which he enjoyed it brewed and the timing and frequency at which he liked it each day.

The more senior riders of the Weyr felt just as much added responsibility at the influx of newcomers as did the newcomers who were adjusting to the brunt of chores. The burden was on these more senior members, who had to step up in the vacuum left by the more wizened Oldies before them, to not only teach the Weyrlings correct techniques, but to do so in a way that inspired loyalty to and pride in the Weyr. Sure, the likes of C'lin, T'tor, M'tou, and L'can had experience and authority, but G'ny remembered the relief of being approached by and able to confide in a kind older rider who was beyond the pressure of advancement and could level with a struggling Weyrling.


	17. A Weyrwoman's (re)Quest

G'ny was kept busy in the newfound bustle as well. With Saleneth's eggs having become Weyrlings, Moura decided to have the pair resume messenger duty, routing G'ny and Saleneth occasionally to the Holds they initially served, but also adding new destinations to their rounds. G'ny suspected Moura this was all part of Moura's plan: to ease G'ny into the diplomatic relations a Weyrwoman's duties entailed, continuing to build her popularity beyond the Weyr's walls. All of this preparation predicated on the timing of Saleneth's fertility. It was a gamble in which G'ny could not quite share Moura's confidence, although she did her best to follow the older woman's lead. The well-being and support of beholden Holders was essential to a Weyr's success. Although most Weyrs were primarily self-sufficient during Interval within their territories, there were occasions on which they would consult each other. Indeed, twice a turn, the Weyrleaders and Weyr Harpers convened to discuss the possibility of Thread. Still, after just over two hundred years without the lethal substance, all reports indicated that all Star Stones registered negative towards any impending Thread. At the very least, it was important that enough riders traveled regularly enough to keep the reference points of each Weyr fresh for use at any moment. Equally, if not more important in this era were Weyr-Hold relations, so G'ny could expect an assignment to either or a variety of both when she checked in with Moura.

"G'ny, good to see you back. You know, I was going to meet with you tomorrow morning about your upcoming schedule, but since we're both here, do you think we could do it now? Over a bubbly pie perhaps?" Moura addressed her subordinate rider, casting an eye towards the still-warm pies. G'ny nodded with a smile in response to her Weyrwoman.

"As usual, you seem to have charmed those around you. Correspondence from Lord Olleran indicates you would be very welcome as a dispatch rider to Tillek. Although, given T'mosen's latest reports, I suspect the sentiment comes from a certain son, Jonderan? Any interest?"

"I'm happy to be wherever the Weyr needs me," G'ny replied. Although the overwhelming smell of fish had been jarring, G'ny found her time at the Hold to be quite pleasant overall. She had faith she could handle Jonderan's polite advances. She replied delicately, "On his part, sure I suspect there is."

"Well, we seem to need you all over the place, so I'll only be putting you on a secondary rotation - I'm sure Olleran and Jonderan will understand. For now, I need to ask a special favor of you. At the last convention of Weyrleaders, the Fort Weyrwoman and I got to comparing recent clutch sizes, noting that numbers really seem to be down. I told her I wanted to follow up later since neither of us had our records with us. Would you bring our records and meet with her on this matter? Ideally, you should include all of the active Weyrs. I would help you cover the territory, but there's just so much to do here, especially with two classes of Weyrlings - the second on the heels of the first." G'ny heartily assented to this request, even as she feared the results she might find through it. She was one of the most well-traveled dragonriders in the Weyr, and her dragon's unexpected clutching exploits gave her a greater understanding of the feminine nature of the task. Adjusting to new situations, managing the emotions of the stakeholders involved, and synthesizing investigations were skills G'ny had long honed, reaching back to her Holder days. Beginning with her exile to Igen, G'ny had been effectively relieved of her Wingsecond duties, and the rapid string of events since then had made return to them impractical. Rather, since Moura's return to leadership, G'ny had become the effective junior weyrwoman, who therefore had the luxury to pursue non-Wing related activities for extended periods of time. She was relieved too, with all that had happened with L'can. She resolved that her mindset towards the new experience would be one of positive determination.

"Depending on your findings, perhaps it might be in the best interest of Pern to recruit an otherwise idle Weyrlingmaster given the difficulty in balancing their staggered development, keep an eye out for anyone who might match that description." Moura strategized.

* * *

G'ny was up and on her way at first light. Ever since Moura had entrusted her with this mission and she had grasped the significance of it, a pit gnawed at G'ny's stomach, making sleep difficult. The early rays of day crept over the perfectly chiseled contours of Fort Weyr's outer buildings, casting long shadows that stretched westward. But for these grasping shadows, everything seemed orderly and in it's place, though quiet as most of its inhabitants still slumbered. Given this early hour of day, G'ny was surprised to see a small figure bustling towards them.

"Good, you're here. I am Ferra, the Fort Weyrwoman." A short woman rushed up to greet them. What the Weyrwoman lacked in stature, she made up for in intense energy. _Someone has had her_ klah, G'n could not help but think offhandedly. _Perhaps it is the same reason as keeps you from sleep_, Saleneth hazarded, ever sensitive to her rider's routines. The Weyrwoman caught G'ny admiring the meticulous stonework. "Ah yes, we have capacity for over five hundred dragons here at Fort. We are hardly at a fraction of that. One hundred and thirty six." The woman stated bitterly.

"I thought maybe it was the flagging energy of our past Weyrwoman, but here I am on my inaugural Weyrlingclass as Weyrwoman, my third overall, and the numbers still don't look good. Nor have we had a queen yet, although I feel it coming soon. Allarath's mother didn't have her until her fourth clutch. You are here to confirm my suspicions - that this problem is not confined to Fort?"

"Well, we've got two and a half queens rising. Twenty three from our most senior queen's most recent clutch. Our junior weyrwoman had previously posted fifteen, although there was pretty unanimous speculation that it was because her rider did not keep her in shape and the flight did not go as smoothly as such a natural process should, so we thought little of it. Mine, the 'half' recently clutched seven, but there was never any reason to think she would have any eggs, let alone a queen."

"A queen, from a 'half' gold you say? You really were out to exceed expectations, weren't you?"

G'ny chuckled but turned serious. "Still, your observations are spot on. In fact, that reminds me, Saleneth's own number of clutchmates, which included our junior weyrwoman's gold as well, was on the small side. Fourteen total, if I remember. Growing up in a Hold, I thought clutches were supposed to be two to four dozen, but when I got to the Weyr, I guess I just figured that was a figure exaggerated by folklore. Now that Moura has me examining historical records though..."

"I thought perhaps it could be something in the air - maybe it's something on this coast, which is why I approached Moura with my suspicions first. A change in the weather perhaps? Not that I have noticed anything. Dragons always did seem more sensitive to those kinds of things than us. At least my fears are not all in my head, although I almost wish they were. Better one paranoid Weyrwoman than a pandemic across Pern. Fair winds in your travels, and keep me posted. I took the liberty of making you a quick, abridged copy of our hatching records to take with you. May the other, more eastern Weyrs not be in such sorry states as ours." The Weyrwoman thrust a sheaf of vellum into G'ny's hand.

"You took the liberty... or a Weyrling made the copy?" G'ny teased the Weyrwoman once she was swiftly outside striking distance. In answer, the Weyrwoman smiled with an air of authority and waved as G'ny winged upwards on Saleneth and blinked _between_.

G'ny had thought it prudent to report back to Moura with her findings as soon as possible. From over five hundred dragons, Fort was down to one hundred and thirty-six. The immensity of the decline troubled her. Troubling too were the implications of these statistics, especially considering the primary objective of dragonriders. If Thread were to fall tomorrow, their forces would be significantly overwhelmed. When she had initially learned Records at Igen, Intervals lasted about two hundred years, yet the Star Stones registered the no cause for alarm, leaving most Weyrleaders, Ferra aside, unconcerned about this historic threat. Moura was clearly troubled by the confirmation, but set about channeling her concern into formulating a plan for action.

"Well, what are you waiting for, go check the other Weyrs out!" She commanded simply at the end of G'ny's report. "The day is only half over, check in with another one today, but remember, this is a sensitive topic, one that many other Weyrwomen may not be ready to face just yet. Report back once you have collected data from all four remaining Weyrs, but feel free to return home or reach out to Azirith if you need help."


	18. Running the Numbers

The Istan Weyrwoman was indisposed when G'ny first arrived, so she was instead treated to the hospitality of a bluerider and a greenrider who had been on watch. The sparkling blue of the ocean surrounding Ista dazzled her on her approach. She had never been to the island Weyr before and had no idea what to expect her reception might be like there.

"Apologies, ma'am, what with our isolation on this island, we hardly hear from the other Weyrs. We weren't expecting such a guest. Oh, hey, have you been down to the beach? If I was just visiting, that's where I'd be," the greenrider helpfully piped up.

"Even though you live here, that's where you would be if we weren't on shift," The bluerider scolded him. G'ny looked around at the largely deserted Weyr.

"Is it just you two around? Where is everyone else?"

"Well, we are split up into three, three day rotations - active training with Wingleaders, sentry duty, including outreach to Holds, and Weyr maintenance."

"Which makes you on the sentry duty rotation? And where are your Weyrlings?" G'ny inquired.

"Oh, we haven't had those for at least three Turns." The bluerider answered, nodding his head and stroking the stubble on his chin.

"Yeah, it's mighty inconvenient, never having been relieved of all my Weyrling chores. Can you believe I still have to hunt tunnelsnakes?" the impudent greenrider lamented with a shiver.

"You seem stretched pretty thin here. How many in a rotation?"

"The queen's entourage has twenty-three, the others twenty-one." The greenrider provided.

"Your queen takes a wing?"

"She thought it fairer than putting a brown up to commanding a whole Wing. We only have two bronzes here." The bluerider explained.

"I see. And which rotation might she be on now?" G'ny asked.

"That would be Hold outreach. The rotation changes tomorrow morning, if you would like to stick around until then. We'd be happy to put you up in a weyr - you have your quite the selection of empty ones to pick from. I would recommend a cliff-facing one, if you've never experienced one before. It's another one of our local specialties." The bluerider suggested. G'ny thanked the two men for their help and direction, assuring them she would make herself comfortable and be of as little trouble as possible.

The greenrider's suggestion to check out the beach did sound nice. _Indeed it does_, Saleneth assented, lowering a forearm for G'ny to mount up. Once the two scouted a nice swath on which to land, Saleneth deposited her onto the soft sand. G'ny removed her riding boots, allowing her toes to wriggle in the black sand, warm despite the lingering chill of the season back in High Reaches. She marveled at its dark hue, as she sifted her hand through it. She ventured out further towards the water, rolling up her loose riding trousers so that they would not get wet as she let the waves lap around her ankles. Saleneth was overjoyed as well, diving into the clear water a hundred meters out. Late afternoon melted into evening, and G'ny watched a the sun sink below the horizon in a beautiful display of color as what she learned that day sank into her head.

G'ny was down in the Weyr kitchen the next morning early enough to be the one to clear out the dregs of the _klah_ that had been kept heating overnight and start a fresh pot to boil. A woman with shiny black hair, cut short but which flatteringly framed her face, and dark features strode in, clad in riding gear.

"I know all the faces around here, but can't place yours. To whose company do I owe the pleasure?" The Ista Weyrwoman regarded her quizzically at first, although G'ny's proffering of fresh _klah_ did much to warm the woman's demeanor towards her, just as G'ny had warmed the fragrant drink.

"I'm G'ny, greenish-gold rider of Saleneth, here on behalf of the Weyrwoman of High Reaches to investigate Weyr numbers and dragon birth rates."

"Ah, well, I can't say I've kept careful track, but one thing I can tell you for sure - it's such a shame we don't have mating flights so often. Sure, we have lots of greens going off, keeps the morale reasonable, but nothing gets a Weyr going like the flight of a queen." The Weyrwoman pined. "Already it's been four years. A Weyrwoman's got needs, you know. Once you go dragon-passion fueled, the sensations of all four of you intertwined, it's hard to be completely satisfied with the ordinary act, if you know what I mean." The Weyrwoman bemoaned with a wink.

"Unfortunately, it seems all Weyrs are down in their Weyrling numbers. That's an interesting point to know about the interval of your queen's rising."

"Hmm, except for it being an impediment to my leisurely exploits, I hadn't thought it a major issue, but I'm glad my fixation on my love life can be helpful. Even if this trend is a problem, what do you think can be done? Do you have any theories about the cause? If not, I can't imagine spending my time worrying about such things. After all, I have much better things, including a Wing of my own, to preoccupy me. Any time I have left over from those duties, why I'm spending that on the beach." Unconcerned as she was, the Istan Weyrwoman pointed G'ny to the Weyr's archives for any further research she might need. The Weyrwoman herself was clearly not so mathematically or historically inclined to dig into actual research to recognize the oddity of the Weyr's current state. Still, G'ny could not really blame her, as she must be kept incredibly busy, being stretched so thin. G'ny quickly skimmed the records, gathered what she needed, and prepared to depart, anxiously awaiting her next destination.

* * *

Of course, in planning out her mission, G'ny made it a priority to stop by Igen, so that the halfway point of her journey might also be the high point. Pouring over the disorganized scrolls at Ista had taken longer than G'ny had anticipated. Even though the Istan riders had assured her she could stay as long as she liked at their island retreat, she knew Igen would welcome her at any hour. A warm, fuzzy feeling washed over her when her eyes immediately sought out and found B'ran scratching Saneth's eye ridge on the ledge of his weyr in the evening light. Her assignment could wait until the morning. She directed Saleneth to the ledge of his weyr. She could still feel that cool reservation in his demeanor that had concerned her despite the heat of the Sands and which was thinly veiled at the Hatching, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, resolved to experience joy in the precious moments she got to spend with him. If there were any reservations on his part, they were soon scrubbed away by his joy at seeing her. He immediately pulled her into a warm embrace and deeper into his weyr's chambers for the duration of the night. From the moment she arrived on the ledge of his weyr, B'ran never left G'ny's side during her visit to Igen.

As the two of them strode into the Main Hall together the next morning, their dragons sunning themselves on the ledge outside, tails intertwined, they were greeted by the usual gang. A'jan immediately launched into the highlights of the Weyr G'ny had missed since she had been gone. His tirade was paused only for a few minutes during which he excused himself, only to return with a blushing Lower Caverns woman in tow, extolling her virtues. In response, M'cal gave B'ran a sound pat on the back to indicate the trending absence of the third man had brought the two closer, although he cast a suspicious eye at G'ny's presence.

"Redfruit juice? I thought I saw a familiar dragon sneak in last night." A familiar voice rang out from the corner of the hall next to the kitchen. Despite the still cool season, the dry air of Igen still parched a person such that the sweet juice, served from a skin that had sealed in the summer sweetness from when the fruit was ripe, was entirely welcome. Pleasantries exchanged, Vowna was more than happy to oblige her once-disciple with access to the scrolls and records on which G'ny had first learned an introduction to Weyrwoman duties. G'ny's recollection of the Weyr's dwindling numbers were unhappily accurate, with no recent clutches changing the outlook. She dutifully recorded the numbers in the ledger she had brought. Igen was certainly a prime corroborator of Moura's hypothesis. As it was, the Weyr was down a net three riders - to forty-nine fighting dragons - since G'ny's sojourn there and there was no current Weyrling class rising in the ranks to fill that void. Perhaps in another six months, Vowna estimated, a new class might begin their training. By the time they would be through though, another four fighters, at least, would have retired.

Of course, G'ny shared her objective, theory, and findings with B'ran as they developed. He accompanied her into the Records Room, although with all of the distractions that bundled with his "help," B'ran may not have actually saved G'ny any time on her quest. If he was trying to buy an extra evening with her, he certainly succeeded, and none of their compatriots' spirits were worse off for it. Dinner was a lively affair with many old friends coming up to greet G'ny and congratulate her on the news of the Hatching that had spread like wildfire upon B'ran's return - despite his attempts to keep it under wraps. Since most were unaware of the details of her visit, many inquired with hope in their eyes if her sojourn might portend something more permanent. Although A'jan and M'cal politely listened and gave their input on the object of G'ny's research, they were much more excited by the prospect of adding another player to their card game mix. Every now and then, especially when she was not preoccupied by her bluffing strategy or the hand to play, G'ny felt highly aware of time passing. She imagined herself holding onto the moment and staying in it forever, or at least appreciating it to its fullest when she realized it would inevitably slip through her fingers. She was happy at Igen, and for a brief evening, she could pretend that everything was fine: Moura had not sent her to investigate dragon numbers, and they were not really as desperate as the numbers she had collected.

As she affixed the riding straps to Saleneth the next morning, checking as she always did for wear, reality snuck back up on her. As she was lost in thought, B'ran snuck up on her too. She instinctively batted his hands away from her riding gear, knowing he was not above taking a knife to her straps to prolong their time together. As a consolation, he simply wrapped his arms around her from behind as she worked. His whisper in her ear as she prepared to departed was not lost on her.

"You see how badly off we are. Another source of eggs would go a long way here at Igen. Probably further than at any other Weyr. Just imagine the difference the new blood you could bring to Igen would make," he implored her. G'ny knew the state of affairs was grim - at Igen and beyond. She cringed, knowing the pain it must have caused B'ran to be an observer at High Reaches' latest Hatching. G'ny tried floating the idea of Weyrlingmaster to B'ran - although he was on the young side of the position, his aptitude for being a dragonrider, and a caring one at that, made him a good fit in G'ny's mind and would be a convenient solution to their distance problem. B'ran, however, was adamant that Igen would need him as a Wingleader in the coming months. Brownrider though he was, he was one of the most capable Wingseconds, and the most senior Wingleader was becoming, well, senior, and for the position of Weyrlingmaster he was, well, junior. Instead, B'ran reminded G'ny of how welcome she was at Igen. G'ny respected B'ran's free will enough not to press the issue further, and her own enough to not positively commit - either to him or to herself.

Despite B'ran's entreaties and G'ny's hope and many machinations in which she could satisfy them, she knew her calling went beyond the dwindling Weyr. Deep down, G'ny knew what needed to happen, but it was too short of a visit to hash out all of the scenarios to their bitter, dead ends and finalize the resolution she knew would be inevitable. Besides, they both knew that for the present, G'ny needed to keep her mind alert and focused at the task at hand. What could a goodbye between friends turned lovers mean if the same farewell needed to be said of the entire dragon race and potential Pernese existence? If she owed B'ran anything, it was to dedicate to their parting the time and attention it took to honor him. They still craved each other's presence, and there were still so many variables that could keep them together. Still, the cold of _between_ was particularly pronounced on her cheeks, as the wetness of the tears that had spilled out of her eyes for both B'ran and the confirmed dragon tallies all but froze during the journey and she braced herself for what was to come at the final two Weyrs.


	19. Denials and Theories

Next on her agenda was Telgar. She quickly suppressed any emotional vulnerability she might have left Igen feeling. Moura had warned her to steel herself around the Telgar Weyrwoman.

"Greetings from High Reaches. I am here collecting information on historic hatch rates among the Weyrs, as there are recent trends that have some concerning implications for the dragon population on Pern." G'ny stated her business.

"Weyrs have always been self-sufficient. Telgar is no exception. I don't know what you are implying, greenrider, we are not wanting here in Telgar. We take care of our own. I don't want any pity from any other Weyr, nor do I want you poaching my riders." The Telgar Weyrwoman was colder than G'ny had expected. "I have nothing to offer you. Short as it may have been, I believe your visit to this Weyr has come to an end." The Weyrwoman insisted, despite manners that a Weyrwoman was supposed to extend to a rider of any kind. G'ny looked around, feeling at a loss.

"I am sorry to have burdened you," G'ny apologized. "My intent was not to offend. I am here at the bidding of the Fort and High Reaches Weyrwoman, who are worried-" G'ny was quickly cut off by the other woman.

"We have eggs currently on the Sands. This is and always will be reason to celebrate. I will not have you raising false alarms!" The Weyrwoman was both proud and defensive.

"And how many would that be?" G'ny straddled a tone of evenness and support.

"Nineteen." Was the haughty reply.

"Weyrwoman, in all sincerity, I congratulate you on this number. You should be flattered to know this is one of the largest clutches I have witnessed in recent Turns." G'ny was careful to modulate her tone and remain gracious. She could tell the Weyrwoman was quick to anger, the overprotective instincts of her queen influencing her emotions, G'ny suspected. Having gathered at least some information, G'ny aimed to leave on a high note. She thought about contacting Moura immediately, but her gut told her the woman would counsel patience. Waiting until the still hardening eggs hatched would probably be the easiest way to yield results. G'ny wondered if she or Moura might be able to swing an invite to the Hatching, although with the suspicious nature of the Weyrwoman, G'ny thought it unlikely. "Thank you for all you assistance. I wish you a happy Hatching and prosperous Turn." G'ny believed her strategy to be successful, as the Weyrwoman flushed with pride at the compliment and relaxed enough to send G'ny off with the customary words of a cordial sendoff.

* * *

In pleasant contrast to her most recent parlance, G'ny found the Weyrwoman at Benden, Wela, particularly sensitive to her developing theory, even though Benden was by far the best off, with one hundred and fifty four fighting dragons. Still, as it was her final stop, she had the collective data of the Weyrs to make her case compelling. For the first time on her journey, she arrived to find the Weyr to be appointed with a junior weyrwoman and, therefore, a second active queen.

"Much as it pains me, I am glad you came and opened a frank conversation about this, G'ny. No Weyrwoman wants to admit that the dragon population has dwindled under her watch. There's a certain tradition of pride in golds, being the matriarchs of dragonkind. It's hard not to see it as a personal flaw. At first I wanted to write it off as an anomaly.

"Unfortunately, our Harper and I have made a similar observation ourselves. When he came to me with the records and performed some mathematics only Harpers must be taught these days, I couldn't deny the trend we both saw. Gone are the days of average clutches of three dozen eggs. We are lucky if we get two dozen, and most clutches barely reach twenty, at that. That, and we are down to two queens since Magine passed and left the Weyr to me this past Turn. My Pendeuth, and our junior weyrwoman's Gallirith, who just reached maturity last year, are our only egg-bearers right now. I don't know if it will be our great-grandchildren or theirs, but I lament the day that not a person on Pern knows the bond of dragon and rider. But, without Thread to fight, perhaps there is little need of our old ways." The Weyrwoman sighed. "Come, enjoy some Benden hospitality this evening, you've traveled long and far in these past few days, and your spirits can only be weighed down by the gravity of your findings. Besides, I imagine our Harper, Soriyen would be interested in engaging further with you on this topic, and no conversation is short with him."

G'ny was glad that she had allowed herself to be persuaded to stay. Between the time change, the excursion to Telgar in the morning, however short it may have been, and the still short duration of the early spring days, it was already mid-afternoon by the time G'ny had a moment to herself. The fabled Benden hospitality did not disappoint. G'ny was shown into an empty junior queenrider's weyr, with freshly turned furs, thrushes, and glows. A carafe of _klah_ and a bowl of assorted nuts and raisins awaited her on the bedside table. The chamber had a warmth to it in which G'ny knew she would get as good a sleep as anywhere else on Pern. Masterharper Soriyen was just as anxious to speak to G'ny as Wela indicated he would be. He was an elderly, but animated and certainly eccentric man. Someone must have tipped him off to her accommodations, as a light knock at the threshold announced his presence.

"I heard tell of a 'greenish-gold' rider, and I said to myself 'I must see this for myself,' as I have never heard of such a thing in all my time as a Harper. Do you mind if I inspect Saleneth while we still have the afternoon light? I am Masterharper Soriyen." G'ny was pleased to make the man's acquaintance and checked in with her dragon, who was quite amenable to the idea.

"Sure, go ahead, this is Saleneth, and she says she is pleased to meet you, as am I." G'ny assured him, shaking his hand.

"Fascinating, indeed, I've never seen anything like it. She is beautiful," he mused. He indicated for her to open her wings up, marveling at the blondness in the most translucent, delicate part of her wings. Overall, the afternoon light was quite flattering, really accentuating her golden hues. He moved his head in various angles to watch how the light bounced off of some of her darker, greener parts, which tended to be at the edges of her extremities - along her ear nubs, in the creases of her wings, along her back ridges, and the tip of her tail - places where her hide was thicker and tougher. In these areas, her coloring was closer to emerald, and the outlining heavily contributed to the overall green effect. Masterharper Soriyen indicated for her to stretch out, pacing out her length, mumbling to himself.

"You say she has laid eggs? And they were viable? How much firestone would you say she has chewed in your training?"

"Yes, she has, seven, all viable, including an unmistakable queen. She only had a small batch, once, although I think she spit most of it out - made a sort of a gagging sound." G'ny reported. Soriyen nodded, deep in thought, pressing his ear against Saleneth's chest, and lower, close to her underside. The dragon basked in all of the attention. He circled around, lifting her tail, which seemed to unnerve Saleneth momentarily, but she was quickly reassured when he replaced it, curiosity satisfied. He then walked up to be in front of her, where he paused to stroke her eye ridge, causing her already blue eyes to whirl faster.

"Thank you, my dear," he said to her, turning to G'ny, leading her out from the queen's area of the courtyard around the corner towards the dining hall, as the dinner hour was approaching. "You know, with the decrease in dragon numbers, there has been talk around here about preventing a green or two from chewing firestone to see if we can boost our numbers that way, although it is not clear that it works that way in dragons. Unfortunately, no greenrider here has volunteered to have his dragon be singled out as the only one who can't flame. Perhaps being in sync with the gender of the rider helps? And Salenenth's health is just prime, that must contribute - you have much to be proud of. Although, it is unmistakable that Saleneth is no ordinary green, or necessarily a true green at all. She really seems to have both colors in her, fighting for dominance, and it seems that the green in her has not been able to overwhelm her inclination or ability to populate. I suspect that's what it is: there is something innate that differentiates a green and a gold's instinctual behavior around firestone: to flame versus stay fertile."

"It certainly is an interesting situation," G'ny replied, having appreciated Saleneth for everything she was too much to question in much depth why she ever was that way. As they walked towards the dining hall, Soriyen turned to talking her ear off about his latest project: understanding Thread patterns.

"Most people these days just can't imagine it - fatal spores descending from the sky, can you?" Masterharper Soriyen looked intently at G'ny for her reaction to his statement, waiting for her to actively visualize the scenario he had just described.

"Imagine is all I can do now, and I don't know how accurate my imagination would be" G'ny admitted.

"All the historical records indicate it really should be falling by now," Masterharper Soriyen went on, "Here, let me show you the charts!" Soriyen exclaimed excitedly, standing up suddenly, even though they had just been served. A pile of mashed tubers and a thick slice of roast wherry steamed on on the man's plate, while G'ny had only just taken her first bite, her mouth watering. She was at a head table, interposed between Soriyen and Wela, and had been looking forward to diving into her plate.

"Don't worry, our headwoman is accustomed to keeping a plate warm for him in just this sort of situation. I'll have her wrap up yours as well," Wela assured G'ny as G'ny stuffed a mouthful of the well-seasoned wherry in her mouth as she rose to follow Soriyen. The man was practically sprinting across the Bowl to the Records room. Once inside, he proceeded to pull out charts that he kept in an accessible drawer. "Here we are. Look at this. See, three times before, Thread has receded, only to come back about two hundred years later. We are right at, if not a little after that mark. Thread is overdue. I check the Star Stones daily for the Red Star to enter the Eye Rock, which is probably overzealous, and I also watch cloud formations very carefully, for anything falling beyond rain, snow or the occasional hail. Hail has worked me up into quite a fit before, and I've since learned how to identify it with greater accuracy. Even among Harpers, I am sometimes called out as a conspiracy theorist. Fortunately, the Weyrleaders have been accepting of and receptive to many of my ideas."

"You are more attentive than many Harpers I have known," G'ny complimented her senior.

"Well, that's to be expected. Benden has a tradition of hosting the best of the best Harpers. Benden tends to be on the short list for many Harpers that only the most well-recommended are able to pursue, what with the vintages the tithes yield. So, when I had proven my elevated skill through my exam marks and performances back at Harper Hall and the opening became available at Benden, I immediately jumped on the opportunity. Speaking of which," Masterharper Soriyen produced two cups and a bottle of wine from a secret cabinet. He filled one cup of wine to its brim, indicated that G'ny fill her cup as much as she pleased, and took a long swig. A middle-aged woman wearing an apron and long hair quickly walked in bearing two plates. With her foot, she pulled around a small wooden table from the corner of the room up between the two of them. She set one plate in front of G'ny with a smile and thrust the other one in front of Masterharper Soriyen.

"Come now, Masterharper, you can't survive on just wine. Masterhealer Ollen gave me strict instructions last time he came through to make sure that you were fed three square meals. Besides, what will our guest think of our hospitality if we usher her away from a hearty meal?"

"Bolla, you worry too much, I have the best of the hospitality right here," Soriyen assured her, raising his cup. Turning to G'ny, Bolla smiled.

"By Faranth's egg, he's like a child sometimes. I hope his little excursion has not ruined your appetite, eat up, my dear." Bolla encouraged G'ny. G'ny could tell this was a long-practiced routine, complete with the auxiliary table so as to not soil the sacred manuscripts. As it was, she could spot a wine stain here and there.

"Now, more to point which draws you here, if you look at dragon numbers, they tend to rise as the Red Star approaches. Many accounts indicate that dragons are instinctual about their response to Thread. Perhaps the two are more intertwined than we realize." Soriyen was back to business.

"So you think the decline in dragons is evidence that that predictions are wrong about Thread coming soon?" G'ny put together.

"It's the one theory that keeps me hopeful for our continued existence." Soriyen confided. His voice grew quieter. "I don't know how we'll survive otherwise."


End file.
